


Don't Mess With the Surgeon

by Aurelia_Combeferre



Series: The Surgeon Verse [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Romance, hospital fic, modern day AU, sociopolitical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3905626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurelia_Combeferre/pseuds/Aurelia_Combeferre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(prompt originally by enjolrastic). A political demonstration gone horrifically wrong sends a young politician Auguste Enjolras to the emergency room of Saint-Michel Hospital. It falls to an intrepid trauma surgeon Eponine Thenardier to save his life on the operating table. As events rapidly spiral out of control outside and within the hospital, the pair and their colleagues must all work together if they are to see the night through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Easy Day

****

**Chapter 1: The Easy Day**

“It’s closed, Navet. You can dress the incision now.”

As the resident assisting the operation stepped in to put gauze on the newly stitched up wound, the surgeon still kept her eye on the patient on the operating room table, in order to watch for any signs of distress. ‘ _It’s always about the first hour,’_ Eponine Thenardier told herself as she glanced at the monitors hooked up to the young girl, who’d been rushed to the hospital after an apparent fall from a bridge. She bit her lip as she recalled the story according to the attending physician at the emergency room: the girl had been playing with some friends and running along the rail of the bridge when she’d slipped and fallen onto the embankment. ‘ _It may explain the bleeding but it does not explain the spiral fractures on her arms or all of her broken ribs,’_ she thought.

“Ma’am, I think we’re done here,” Navet Avril said eagerly as he placed the last bit of dressing on the wound. “Looks like she’s going to walk out of here, eh?”

“Hopefully. You did well out here,” Eponine replied. She glanced at Louison, the anaesthesiologist. “I’ll be around to check on her in an hour. Please tell me right away if there is any emergency.”

“Of course. It’s the rules,” Louison said before directing the nurses who would help her wheel the patient out of the operating room. “Careful with that IV there! Her veins were already collapsed enough as it is!”

Eponine saw Navet wince as they went to scrub out in an adjacent cubicle. It was not always easy for the nursing staff or younger members of medical teams to work with older physicians, especially those of the likes of Louison, who were practically considered pillars at the Saint-Michel Hospital. It did not matter if one was like Navet, the most brilliant resident in a department, or even if one was like Eponine and already a surgical fellow. The fact still remained that they had years ahead of them to train and perfect their art.

“It’s an easy day eh, Ma’am?” Navet said as they tossed their soaked operating room gowns into a bin.

“I already told you, you should call me Eponine,” the young woman chided. “I don’t like it when everyone is formal even outside of the operating room.”

Navet laughed a little sheepishly. “I meant there’s no serious emergency or disaster coming. I really could use some sleep.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Eponine warned. She looked at the clock, which read half past one in the afternoon. For some people this, and not the graveyard shift, was considered _the_ unholy time of the day. “You should get some sleep in the call room. I’ll tell you if we have another case.” She remembered now that her trainee had been on his feet since very early that morning.

Navet grinned gratefully and barely held back a yawn. “Thanks Ma’am---I mean, Eponine.”

“One more time, you’re getting a demerit,” Eponine joked. She waited for Navet to quit the scrubs room before she washed her face and took out the pins that held her hair up in a severe bun. She then smoothed back her dark tresses into a more becoming ponytail. ‘ _I can be seen in the cafeteria like this,’_ she thought before heading to the call room, where she’d left some of her things.

When she arrived there, Navet was already snoring in one of the padded desk chairs on the far side of the room. Eponine tiptoed past him and over to where the day’s rota was tacked to a worn corkboard. By this hour, the once fresh paper was now covered with pen marks, correction tape and post-it notes for all the emergency alterations that tended to come up on the trauma rotation. ‘ _Combeferre won’t be scrubbing out for another half hour,’_ Eponine realized as she tracked down the name of one of her friends. Apparently her former classmate had suddenly been called in to see to a case of blunt injury from a construction site. As far as Eponine was concerned, this was a relatively easy situation compared to the vehicular accidents, stabbing incidents, burns, and maulings that she had seen over the years, both in and out of the hospital. She turned her attention away from the rota towards the large table in the middle of the room. As usual this space was littered with clipboards, half-eaten takeout, empty cups of coffee, and hibernating laptops. She clucked her tongue as she found her own things half-buried under the day’s newspaper, which bore the headline: “ _17000 expected at Saint-Michel rally, police to be in full force’._

After changing out of her operating room shoes and into her sneakers, and then going over a little paperwork, Eponine found her purse and pocketed her phone before heading out of the surgery department complex. Almost immediately she heard another voice, this time that of a woman, calling her name. “Chetta, I didn’t know you were off-duty,” she greeted her friend.

“No such thing as off duty in obstetrics, only short breaks!” Musichetta Laurain said breathlessly as she glanced at her phone, as if expecting it to go off any time with another urgent call. She wiped her tanned forehead before looking at Eponine. “I heard that you got the little girl who was brought in today? Looks like you and some of the crew need to go down to the Child Protection Unit, again.”

Eponine let out a resigned sigh. “I’m doomed to be there; first I was the patient, now I’m the reporting doctor,” she said.

Musichetta’s face twisted with sympathy. “Things get better.”

“Tell me about it,” Eponine scoffed. “Until when are you decked here?”

“Six tonight. I may stay till seven, till Joly gets out of a case conference,” Musichetta replied. “He’ll probably spend the rest of the night looking up statistics and the odds of us coming down with the next strain of whatever they have in infectious diseases control this week.”

Eponine rolled her eyes at the mere image of Musichetta’s brilliant but hypochondriac boyfriend frantically looking up every database on his laptop. At that moment she caught sight of another, taller and decidedly more handsome figure in a white coat. “Hello Marius!”

Marius Pontmercy nearly tripped on a dangling shoelace, but just managed to keep on his feet as he smiled at the two ladies. “Hi Eponine, hi Chetta,” he greeted awkwardly. “Where is Combeferre?”

Eponine gestured over her shoulder to the room she had just left. “He’s still at work. What about you?”

“I’ve got a little reviewing to do,” Marius said. “Orals coming up in two weeks.”

Eponine and Musichetta winced. Oral exams were the last and arguably most dangerous hurdle to overcome before a fellow could be certified as a specialist or sub-specialist in his or her field. It was just as unfortunate for Marius that he was training under the neurology department, which was known for giving particularly gruelling examinations. “You’ll do well,” Eponine said encouragingly.

“I hope so,” Marius replied as he adjusted his hold on his papers.

“Chetta and I were going down to the cafeteria for some coffee. You should join us and take your mind off that for a little bit,” Eponine suggested with a grin.

“I think I can spare a few minutes,” Marius said with a smile. He touched Eponine’s arm lightly. “Thank you Eponine.”

Out of the corner of her eye Eponine could already see Musichetta fighting to keep a straight face as Marius walked away. “Oh don’t give me that look, please,” Eponine whispered.

“Couldn’t you be more obvious?” Musichetta quipped.

“It’s 2014. There’s nothing wrong with a girl going for what she wants,” Eponine retorted.

The obstetrician gave her a withering look. “What if I happened to be busy now and couldn’t join you in the cafeteria?”

“I need a wingman,” Eponine said. “Chetta, please? I’ll go with you on your next shopping trip before your next date with Joly, and I won’t complain no matter how many things you try on.”

Musichetta laughed. “You don’t have to go that far. Anyway I can feel my caffeine titer beginning to drop,” she joked before looping her arm around Eponine’s.

Eponine smiled widely as she and her friend made their way downstairs. The hospital cafeteria was on the ground floor of the hospital’s wing, and one had to pass near the emergency room to get to the cafeteria entrance. After a few narrow misses with gurneys, the two doctors finally were able to find a corner table away from the cafeteria door, in sight of the television near the counter.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up though,” Musichetta told Eponine frankly. “You never know when some emergency may strike and Marius will have to be on call.”

“He’ll be here. He’s a gentleman,” Eponine insisted.

“And we’re ladies and we’re all doctors, and we all know what comes first,” Musichetta reminded her as she stirred some sugar into her drink. “No offense to you or Marius though, since you’re an awesome woman and he’s really a nice guy, but I always thought I’d see you with someone a little more fiery.”

“Please don’t tell me again that I ought to go out with Combeferre. We tried that in medical school and I wouldn’t even dare say it coded.”

“I’m not saying you should go out with him. I know how good, and more importantly how not so good you two are for each other. All I’m saying is that you need someone who can keep you on your toes.”

Eponine rolled her eyes as she put down her coffee. “I need someone who won’t drive me out of my job or my sanity. I’ve worked _years_ to get here, and I’m not going back.”

“And you think Marius could be that?”

“Maybe?”

Musichetta shrugged before waving to someone entering the cafeteria. “Combeferre, how nice of you to join us.”

Daniel Combeferre sighed with relief as he slid into an empty chair. “Congratulations on saving that kid, Eponine,” he said.

“That’s high praise,” Eponine replied with a smile. It meant more that Combeferre was fair in his assessments and critiques, but very rare in giving effusive compliments. It was a trait of his that had endured from their first days in medical school, as well as throughout internship, residency, and subspecialty training in the trauma division. In fact it only made her all the more determined to keep up with him professionally. “How’s your patient?”

“He’ll live, but I’ll have to send him down to the physical therapy department soon enough. He wasn’t just knocked by a beam but he had his leg shattered too,” Combeferre said. He paused to get himself a cup of black coffee, which he downed at an alarmingly fast rate. “What are you two torturing each other about?” he asked the ladies.

“The usual topic,” Musichetta said.

“I _am_ doing something about it, and he should be here any minute,” Eponine hissed.

Combeferre laughed. “Are you talking about the future neurologist Marius Pontmercy?”

Eponine felt her face burn. “He was looking for you.”

“Yeah, I got his text. It’s all taken care of,” Combeferre said. He frowned as he looked towards the counter. “Breaking news....”

Eponine turned to see a newscaster on screen, dressed in a bullet proof vest. “ _We have reports that a dozen shots were fired at the speakers and into the crowd at the demonstration in Saint-Michel square. The protestors are facing off against the police on the south side of the square. No fatalities have been confirmed yet, but the wounded are being brought now to the nearest hospitals---“_

Combeferre swore as he crumpled his empty cup. “Time to start scrubbing in. So much for Navet’s naptime; he’s drooling all over the call room.”

Eponine sighed deeply as she looked at Musichetta. “If Marius comes by here, give him my apologies and my regards.”

“Oh I’ll tell him to _ask you out_ this time,” Musichetta said. “You go get those bleeders, Ponine.”

“I really owe you, Chetta. Thanks,” Eponine said before racing out after Combeferre. She was thankful that she’d changed into her rubber shoes, otherwise she knew she would not have been able to run so quickly through the crowd now heading towards the emergency room. As she and Combeferre rounded a corner, she saw the emergency room doors swing open as some orderlies carried in a man covered in blood from head to toe.

Combeferre suddenly stopped in his tracks and did a double take. “God no...” he muttered before swearing under his breath and barrelling into the emergency room.

“Combeferre, wait up!” Eponine called as she ran after him. She saw her friend talking quickly to one of the orderlies, stepping aside only to let more wounded be brought in on gurneys. She risked a glance at the first patient who had been brought in and winced when she saw him flinch as someone set up an IV line. ‘ _At least three entry wounds in the chest and a gash on the scalp, lacerations on all extremities, but hopefully no fractures,’_ she thought. This man’s golden hair was matted with blood and he was almost too pale to be considered as still living.

“Doctor Thenardier, Doctor Combeferre, we need you to scrub in immediately; we’ll send the patients up to the OR as soon as they are stabilized,” one of the older attending physicians, Mabeuf, shouted over the din.

Eponine nodded just as she felt Combeferre seize her arm. “You know someone?” she asked.

“Him,” Combeferre said, gesturing to the patient that Eponine had been watching. The surgeon rolled up his sleeve to show the tattoo on his left forearm. Eponine already knew the words there well: ‘ _Liberte, egalite, fraternite, ou la mort.’_ She glanced at the patient’s arm and saw these same words imprinted there as well.

Combeferre met her gaze again. His eyes were wild but his tone was level. “He’s one of my oldest friends, since we were children. He is, in many ways, my brother, Eponine. If there’s anyone here who can save him, it’s you.”

Eponine swallowed hard, both at the pain in Combeferre’s eyes and the request in his words. After all, if it had been one of her own siblings lying on that gurney, she would trust only Combeferre to look after him or her. She steeled herself to look at the patient, and then at her friend. “I will do my best.”

“Thank you,” Combeferre said before going off to where a medical team was summoning him.

Eponine quickly surveyed the IVs and monitors being hooked up to her patient before going to the door so she could head upstairs and scrub in. Before she could step out, a thought occurred to her. “Combeferre! What’s your friend’s name?” she called.

Combeferre looked up quickly. “Auguste Enjolras. You’d best stick with his last name though.”

 **Something about this name struck Eponine as vaguely familiar, almost as if she might have seen or heard of it earlier in the day. “I’ll remember that,” she said before racing upstairs to scrub in for what she knew would be the most gruelling operation of the day.**  
  



	2. Emergence

**Chapter 2: Emergence**

‘ _Enjolras, are you sure you don’t want a vest? Those death threats sounded pretty serious this time.’_

_‘I won’t need it. Give that vest to Bahorel if he wants it; he’s out nearest the police barricade.”_

_“You’ll be up there on the stage”_

_“I’ll be fine, Feuilly. The last thing we need is to show them we’re the slightest bit afraid.’_

These words still cut clearly through the haze in Enjolras’ mind even as he slowly became aware that there was some feeling in his body after all. ‘ _Those bastards really went too far this time,’_ he thought as he slowly opened his eyes and winced against the light that pierced his line of sight.

“Auguste Enjolras, can you hear me? You’ve been shot and you’re now in the hospital,” a familiar voice said from his left side. “You survived an operation and you’re now in the recovery room.”

“Doctor Louison?” Enjolras managed to croak out. He had not seen the lady in some time, not since his best friend Combeferre was starting out his training in the trauma surgery department. Even after all these years she was still the same squat, stern but maternal figure who figured a great deal in his friend’s stories. ‘ _If she’s the attending, that means I’m at the Saint-Michel Hospital,’_ he realized. Fortunately this place was only five minutes away from where the rally had been.

 “Good thing you still remember me, young man,” the anaesthesiologist said. “How are you feeling?”

Enjolras grimaced as he became aware of the ache welling up in his midsection, which was swathed in gauze. He also saw that his arms and legs were also bandaged, but a little less tightly. “I’ve been better. What happened to the others?”

Louison gave him a pointed look. “For now, consider yourself lucky to be alive,” she said before getting a penlight and a thermometer in order to begin running some tests. “You were incredibly difficult to put under before surgery, not to mention you needed a transfusion in the process. You were _this_ close to coding and you might have if it hadn’t been Doctor Thenardier doing the surgery. “

Enjolras rolled his eyes before answering Louison’s next questions about whether he was feeling any discomfort or worse, a loss of sensation. All the while he was trying to recall what had happened during the demonstration. Everything was a blur of shots, running footsteps, people shrieking for help, and eventually the crash of police batons meeting sticks and stones amid clouds of tear gas. ‘ _The gunman was unmasked. He was shooting to kill and he was almost sure he had me there,’_ he noted. The assailant was most likely still on the loose, which was not something he could take lightly.

As he looked around he also realized that Louison had placed him in a screened off cubicle. Yet even so he could hear whispers of nurses and doctors as well as the groans of patients elsewhere in the recovery room. “Am I in isolation or something?”

“This is just an additional precaution for your security,” Louison replied dismissively. She heard a rapping on the curtain frame and she cautiously pulled the curtain aside by an inch before breathing a sigh of relief. “Good to see you here Combeferre.”

Combeferre was pale and haggard when he stepped into the cubicle, but a relieved smile lit up his face when he made eye contact with his friend. “That was too close even for a close call, Enjolras. You’ve had everyone worried sick,” he said.

“Shouldn’t have been. Someone sold everyone out,” Enjolras replied. He tried to take a deep breath and nearly groaned at the pain in his side. “Where are Courfeyrac and Bahorel? They were in the ambulance with me and the others?”

“Courfeyrac is in the waiting room, Bahorel went out to your....headquarters but he said he’d be back,” Combeferre said.

“Feuilly?”

“According to the rest he’s fine.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at his friend’s suddenly cautious tone. “There’s something you aren’t telling me, Daniel.”

Combeferre sighed deeply; whenever they used given names around each other it was a sign that something serious was afoot. “He’s over at the army camp trying to get the others out. A hundred protestors were rounded up by the military,” he said in a whisper.

“How many dead?”

“Fifty. Maybe more.”

“How many wounded?”

“No one knows the final count yet. There are people still being brought in for treatment, since the riots haven’t stopped.”

Enjolras was silent at this new knowledge. This was far too much even for the notably brutal authorities of the capital. Something would have to be done right away. “When can I go?”

Louison clucked her tongue as she looked up from writing something in his hospital chart while Combeferre shook his head. “That’s not my call to make. You’d better ask the surgeon for clearance,” Combeferre said.

“When can I speak to him?”

“Her. She’s still in the middle of an operation.”

Enjolras swore under his breath before glancing at the various monitors he was hooked up to. Every hour, or even every minute’s delay was a further opportunity for the government to exercise its impunity.  “At least I should get a message out to the Congress---“

“Which has just been disbanded thanks to what happened this afternoon,” Combeferre said. He looked about before speaking again. “It’s a firestorm, Enjolras. I don’t know what happened this afternoon, and I don’t know exactly what you did, but it’s gotten the Ministry for Public Order in an uproar.”

“It was only supposed to be a demonstration,” Enjolras seethed. It was supposed to be a usual event for the radical faction, one for everyone to join whether they were at the bottom of the grassroots or already working in the halls of power.  There was always the potential for danger: scuffles, temporary detention at the precinct, and of course the media howling about the dangers of the ruffians trying to overthrow the government. The young man rubbed his temples as he saw again the blackness of a gun barrel pointed in his direction. It now shifted the battleground entirely into terra incognita.

At that moment he heard the rustling of the curtain being pulled back and he turned to see who the newcomer was. This abrupt action sent another bolt of pain through his abdomen, forcing him to grit his teeth again.  Through his agonized haze he was vaguely aware of Combeferre conferring with a young woman dressed in red scrubs. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy bun, and a wayward strand fell into her face as she reached for his chart. “Miss, I think that is for the attending physician—“he blurted out.

The woman’s brow furrowed as she signed something on the chart. “Is this how you greet everyone who stitches you up?”

Combeferre chuckled as he looked first at the woman and then at his friend. “I do not believe you’ve been properly introduced. Eponine, meet my friend and favourite congressman Auguste Enjolras. Enjolras, meet my colleague Eponine Thenardier. She saved your life.”

Enjolras managed to nod especially now Louison had put some additional painkillers in his IV line. “Thank you Dr. Thenardier. I need to speak with you about when I could leave the hospital.”

She snorted as she met his questioning gaze. “It’s only been an hour since you got out of the operating room, Mr. Enjolras. You aren’t in a wholly stable condition yet.”

“When is the earliest time then?”

“If no complications arise, then within a week.”

Enjolras crossed his arms, making sure not to disturb the bandages on his elbows. “Isn’t there any way it can be earlier?”

“If you cooperate, then maybe. Right now it’s too early to tell,” Eponine replied.

Enjolras rolled his eyes impatiently. “What do you mean by too early to tell?”

Eponine picked up the chart and held it up. “See these numbers here? Until they straighten themselves out, you’re not going anywhere. The last thing anyone needs is you bleeding out on the hospital steps or something worse.”

“Dr. Thenardier, with all due respect, this is an emergency,” Enjolras said sternly as he tried to sit up. “I have friends out there who are illegally detained and I refuse to sit here and do nothing about it.”

Combeferre sighed deeply. “Enjolras, please cooperate. That’s the best help you can be at this time.”

“I don’t think anyone here understands the immediacy of this situation,” Enjolras retorted.

“Immediacy? You came in here with three bullets lodged into you, and one almost blew your spleen apart and another was only half an inch away from puncturing your lungs. _That_ is immediacy,” Eponine snapped as she put her hands akimbo. “In short, you almost died.”

Enjolras glared at her. “More people will die if no one does anything.”

“Everyone here knows that. The emergency room has been packed for the past six hours,” the surgeon said. “Don’t think we aren’t worried about what is going on.”

The politician nodded, even as he considered for a moment asking to be signed out against medical advice. He quickly dismissed the thought, knowing it would not be the smartest idea when both Combeferre and Louison were present. “There must be something that can still be done.”

“You may have visitors. Not here, but once you’re brought to your room. Your friend Courfeyrac was able to arrange it,” Eponine said curtly. She glanced at the monitors before going closer to inspect the bandages. “Everything seems to be holding. You’re not feeling faint or in pain, are you?” she asked.

“What’s one supposed to feel after surgery?” he answered caustically.

Eponine gave him a look of disgust. “I think all is _well_ with him, Louison,” she said.

“Indeed. Don’t be so antagonistic. That goes for both of you,” Louison chided before poking her head out of the cubicle and yelling for an orderly to bring over a gurney.

Combeferre touched Eponine’s shoulder. “Are you making rounds later?”

The woman bit her lip. “I’ll see. That depends how many cases get sent up to me. Good luck with your next ones,” she said before stalking out of the cubicle.

Combeferre sighed deeply as he looked at Enjolras. “Was that necessary?”

“All I need is for her to sign me out,” Enjolras said. “How difficult is that to do?”

“You have no idea. And you really shouldn’t get too cocky with someone who can use a scalpel as well as she does. I’d start composing my apology if I were you,” Combeferre warned. “I’ll see you later and get Courfeyrac and the rest to come up too.”

Enjolras nodded gratefully. “By the way Combeferre, what _does_ the spleen do?”

Combeferre chuckled amusedly. “Do you really want to know now?”

“Could you give me a short, layman’s explanation?” Enjolras asked.

“Let me put it this way: without it, you’ll be on antibiotics for a very long time, maybe for life,” Combeferre said. “You might want to remember that the next time you go to these things without a bulletproof vest or get mad at someone for saying, ‘I told you so’.”


	3. Beyond the Oath

****

**Chapter 3: Beyond the Oath**

‘ _If only I hadn’t promised to ‘first do no harm,’ I would have gladly had let that man have more than just a piece of my mind,’_ Eponine fumed silently as she stormed out of the recovery room. While she was used to all kinds of blasé and even slightly rude reactions from agitated and terse patients emerging from anaesthesia, none of them had ever been as off-putting as her conversation with Enjolras. She gritted her teeth as she thought back on her own assessment of his condition. If he had that much fight in him, perhaps he would mercifully be off her hands in less than seven days.

“Eponine! There you are!” a slightly cracked voice called from up the hall. The young surgeon turned to see Mabeuf hurrying towards her, with a haggard looking young man in tow. “How is your patient?”

“He’s awake. The odds are in his favor,” Eponine replied even as she could taste the bile in her throat. She saw that Mabeuf’s companion let out a deep sigh of relief. “Are you a friend of his?”

The young man nodded as he extended a hand congenially. “Maurice Courfeyrac. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Thenardier. Dr. Mabeuf speaks very highly of you.”

“I was just telling him that he’s one of five people in the _world_ I’d trust to patch up his friend, given his condition when he was brought in,” Mabeuf said proudly.

Eponine smiled gratefully at this praise. “You ought to also thank the emergency room team; if not for them he wouldn’t have made it to the OR.” She took a deep breath before looking at Courfeyrac. Despite his drawn and harried look, he was clearly congenial and had a smile that spoke of humor and camaraderie. His dark brown curly hair and button nose only helped further the engaging impression. “Mr. Enjolras is being brought to his room now; I heard you were the one who arranged it.”

“That is exactly what we need to speak with you about,” Mabeuf said seriously. “It might not be advisable for you to leave the hospital premises, at least for tonight.”

Eponine’s jaw dropped. “Are we on lockdown?”

“No, not at all. It’s only a precaution for some of our staff and employees given the profile and circumstances of some patients,” Mabeuf said. 

Courfeyrac stuck his fingers in his belt loops. “There are a number of people who have a vested interest in silencing my friend. Until we can be sure as to who was behind the attack, anyone who has helped him out may be at risk of meeting a similar fate.”

“People don’t know I was his attending,” Eponine argued.

Mabeuf wiped his spectacles. “All the same it’s a risk we cannot take, Eponine. You are too valuable to lose, especially at a time like this.”

Eponine sighed before glancing briefly out the window. It was evening now, and normally at this hour the city was a beautiful panorama of neon signs and trails of light on the streets. Tonight the lights were still there but wreathed in smoke from barricades and bonfires. ‘ _It’s not like trying to outrun the big boys on a rainy night,’_ she reminded herself. Whoever had been behind the shooting was out for more than just blood. “May I at least call up Azelma and Gavroche? I need to make sure they’re okay,” she asked.

“Of course. Give my regards to them,” Mabeuf said before looking down at his cellphone, which had begun to beep. “Excuse me for a moment; I have to take this call.”

Courfeyrac gave Eponine an apologetic look as Mabeuf hurried towards the elevator. “I’m sorry about this mess. It wasn’t supposed to happen. We had a permit and everything for the rally.”

“A permit doesn’t mean anything nowadays,” Eponine said as she brought out her phone and pressed ‘2’ on the speed dial. She bit her lip as she heard Azelma’s cell phone ring twice before the familiar click of the phone being picked up. “Zelma, are you and Gavroche home?”

“Yeah, we just got in. Gavroche is in the shower,”Azelma replied. “Are you doing overtime again?”

 _“_ Got a tricky patient to watch,”Eponine said. She could not give her sister any more details, for the sake of confidentiality and safety. “It’s crazy out there, so please stay inside. Tell Gavroche to stay put too.”

“Nothing is going on here.”

“You’d better hope it stays that way. It’s going to be a long night.”

 _“_ What’s happening, Ponine?” Azelma asked worriedly. “I heard that it’s because some politician dude got shot?”

“I’ll tell you when I get home, okay?” Eponine replied, fighting not to show her trepidation at being away from her siblings at this time. After all they were old enough to take care of themselves; Azelma was just two years younger than her, while Gavroche was three years Azelma’s junior. Eponine cleared her throat before speaking again. “There’s still some meatloaf in the fridge. If you want something just get it from the convenience store downstairs.”

“Screw the meatloaf, I’m making mac and cheese,” Azelma laughed.

Eponine snorted. “Next time you tease me about my cooking, you’re not having any.”

 “I’ll save you some,” Azelma said cheerily. “Hang in there, sis. See you tomorrow!”

“Yeah---Azelma!” Eponine replied but at that moment she heard the crackle of the connection becoming choppy before the call ended altogether. She shook her head before trying to call again, but this time she could not come through. ‘ _Please be careful,’_ she would have said, but she settled for quickly sending this by text before pocketing her phone.

Courfeyrac smiled sympathetically at Eponine as they too began walking to the elevator. “That was your younger sister?”

“Yeah. She’s a schoolteacher downtown. She also does boxing in her spare time by the way,” Eponine said. Azelma always told her to add this last bit every time it was a guy asking about her. The surgeon grinned approvingly when Courfeyrac didn’t cringe at this information. “So are you working on Mr. Enjolras’ staff?” she asked cautiously after a moment.

“Not at all. We go back a long way, even before law school,” Courfeyrac said.

“That’s a surprise.”

“He’s not like many of those prisses who want their assistants at their beck and call. He doesn’t bring what staff he has for things like this. He doesn’t want to force anyone to be involved or to take a stand just because they are working for him.”

‘ _But it’s another thing if one has to save his life,’_ Eponine groused silently as she pressed the button for the elevator. She checked her phone again but found no reply from her sister by the time the elevator doors opened. “So if you’re friends with him, does that mean you also know Combeferre?” she asked after a while.

Courfeyrac nodded. “We were all children together.”

“I see,” Eponine said, making a mental note to ask Combeferre a little more about his own past. ‘ _I didn’t let him pry into my story even when we were dating and in return I kept out of his,’_ she thought, now feeling a little rueful at her reticence.

When she and Courfeyrac stepped out on the ground floor lobby, they saw people quickly backing away from where Mabeuf and some other doctors were in the middle of furtively explaining something to a squad of men dressed in fatigues. Before Eponine could take another step a pair of arms seized her shoulders and dragged her to a nearby nook. She almost drove an elbow into this person’s side before she found herself looking into a familiar pair of bespectacled green eyes. “Joly!”

Joly nodded before quickly grabbing his phone from the pocket of his lab coat and keying in a message. ‘ _Those men want to search the hospital for political dissidents.’_ He nodded to Courfeyrac, who was also trying to make himself small in the nook. “They know,” he mouthed.

Courfeyrac swore under his breath. “We should have shooed the TV crews away. Where are the others?”

“Still on their way, I hear,” Joly said. “Have you seen Chetta?” he asked Eponine.

The surgeon shook her head as she brought out her phone. She first sent a message to Combeferre in the event he was still in the operating room wing and then scrolled through her address book for Louison’s number. “Louison! Are you still upstairs?” she asked in a whisper.

“Still doing the transfer,” Louison replied after a moment. “Is something wrong?”

Eponine looked to where one of the men in fatigues was shouting at Mabeuf. It would not take them long till these searchers would delve into the hospital CCTV system or demand records which would show them not only who had attended to Enjolras, but also the room that Louison and the orderlies would be bringing him to. “Take the service ramps right now, skip the elevators, and don’t let anyone see you. And use the leftmost sixth floor room, tell the nursing station that it’s my orders,” she said slowly into the phone. One of Louison’s other patients had been discharged from there just earlier that day, and as far as Eponine knew that room was still vacant.

“Eponine, where are you? Is something happening?” Louison asked.

“I can’t say yet, but please just trust me!” Eponine said. She winced when she saw one of the men spit at Mabeuf. She thought she also heard Enjolras on the other end of the line but before she could ask Louison about this there was a shout from the lobby followed by the sickening snap of a pistol whipping someone’s head.

Eponine and Joly sprang out of their hiding place to catch Mabeuf as he sagged to the floor, bleeding profusely from a gash on the right side of his brow. “They didn’t hit him anywhere else,” Eponine said as she checked the elderly man over. Yet this was the only reassuring sign for Mabeuf was seemingly dazed and groaning with his eyes closed.

Joly nodded grimly before glancing to Courfeyrac, who was yelling for help. The doctor quickly shook his older colleague. “Mabeuf! Can you hear us?”

Mabeuf opened his eyes slowly. “Those vultures---“he whispered as he tried to sit up only to collapse again. His fingers scrabbled for his phone and he pressed ‘3’ on the speed dial. “Lock down the ER, block the computers,” he managed to say into the mouthpiece before he groaned again and shut his eyes. “He’s not the only one who needs to hide.”

“Who else?” Eponine asked as she tried to steady Mabeuf’s head and neck. ‘ _If he only gets whiplash out of this, that would already be a mercy,’_ she realized. Out of the corner of her eye she could see some nurses and orderlies running up to assist. “Who else is here?” she reiterated.

Mabeuf held up five fingers even as Joly and a nurse carefully eased him onto a stretcher. “Don’t let them be found.”

Joly looked at Eponine. “I’ll stay with him. You have to get everyone clear. Is Marius still on duty at the neuro ward?”

“I think so,” Eponine replied.

“That’s good. Tell Chetta I’m fine and I’ll see her shortly,” Joly said before checking his watch and then hurrying after the men carrying Mabeuf’s stretcher.

Eponine bit her lip as she caught sight of a crimson puddle on the floor where her mentor had been. “Sorry about the room switch,” she said to Courfeyrac as they ran to a fire exit.

“That was quick thinking,” Courfeyrac said. “Could you tell me where?” 

 Eponine keyed in the words ‘642’ on her phone display and held it up to Courfeyrac. The lawyer nodded before getting his own phone out to make a call. Eponine raced the rest of the way up the narrow stairway and shoved open the door on the third floor. ‘ _The computers may be jammed, but there’s still some record of the patients on the surgery schedules,’_ she thought as she ran to the surgery wing. She clenched her fists as she heard voices coming from the open door of the call room, ready to strike and make a run for it if necessary. She let out a ragged breath when she saw Navet emerge, carrying an armful of shredded paper. “You got rid of everything?” she asked warily.

“But I have backups,” Navet said, cocking his head to indicate the flash drive he wore on a chain around his neck. “Combeferre said something happened downstairs?”

“The hospital is being searched and some goon pistol-whipped Mabeuf,” Eponine replied. “Have you got a photo of the list of our patients’ names? I need to track them down.”

“No need for that, Eponine,” Combeferre chimed in from the hallway. “We already put the contingency plan into play and relocated everyone.”

Eponine wheeled around to look at her friend. “What contingency plan?”

“The one that was discussed while you were still in the operating room,” Combeferre said sheepishly as he shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to brief you about it.”

Eponine nodded tersely. “You also forgot to tell me that your best friend is the finest of assholes.”

Combeferre pinched the bridge of his nose before casting a withering look at Navet, who was now laughing hysterically and holding onto a chair. “Enjolras may be very abrasive, but that’s only at the beginning or when he’s loopy from anaesthesia. He’s one of the best persons I’ve ever known.”

“When I combine that with the fact we used to date, I can now question your standards for ‘best person’,” Eponine retorted dryly as she crossed her arms.

“Nobody is perfect, Eponine,” Combeferre pointed out.

“Then that the third bullet, the one that didn’t get too near anything vital, actually blew out his sense of courtesy,” Eponine grumbled as she began checking her bag for anything that may have gotten inadvertently misplaced during the chaos she had just missed. “To think he had the gall to demand that I discharge him, just like that!”

“I was there, remember?” Combeferre said, holding up his hands as if to sign for a truce. “I’ll have a talk with him, I promise.” 

“Thanks in advance.”

“No, thank you for saving his life.”

‘ _The things I do for friends,’_ Eponine thought as she zipped up her bag and went to a row of lockers. Thankfully she always kept a spare set of scrubs, a change of clothes, and some toiletries in the call room in case of emergencies or unexpected overtime. “Who else is staying the night?” she asked as she threw her bag into the locker.

“Almost the entire ER staff, and of course some of us from the surgery and intensive care departments,” Combeferre replied. “Musichetta is staying since there was a pregnant lady also brought in from the rally and she’s under close observation. That means that Joly will also be keeping us company.”

“Who’s going to make sure that Bossuet doesn’t burn down their apartment or step into the line of a fire fight?” Navet asked worriedly.

Combeferre shrugged; their friend’s unlucky roommate was a fixture at the hospital owing to his penchant for putting parts of his anatomy in close proximity to projectiles and hard surfaces. “He can survive tonight, and anyway Musichetta probably has that covered.”  He glanced at the clock on the wall, which now showed in huge red numbers the time of 7:55. “There’s free dinner at the cafeteria tonight,” he said.

Navet brightened up at the prospect of food. “Sure could use that before we go on rounds.”

Eponine sighed, knowing there wasn’t anything better she could do this evening while stuck in the hospital. “Hopefully it’s not soggy pasta; if it is, I’m getting ramen and you boys are free to dig in,” she said, feeling a little better as she followed them down to the cafeteria.

By this time, the cafeteria was crammed with hospital staff, outpatients and relatives of patients. After getting trays of stir-fried noodles, spring rolls and some bottled water, the trio went to where Joly, Musichetta, and Courfeyrac were seated with another burly, well tanned man wearing a grime-spattered red t-shirt and a ratty baseball cap. “Long time no see, Bahorel,” Combeferre greeted the fourth person at the table.

“I wish it was under better circumstances. We’ve missed you and Joly coming around,” Bahorel said, clasping Combeferre’s arm warmly. He grinned enthusiastically as he caught sight of Eponine. “Dr. Eponine Thenardier, I presume?”

“The one and only,” Eponine said. “You are---“

“Remy Bahorel. You’re free to change that to ‘dear’, ‘handsome’ or whatever pet name suits you,” Bahorel replied.

Eponine raised an eyebrow at this line before taking a seat next to Musichetta while Combeferre introduced Navet to the rest of the group. “Why is it that you guys all just seem to know each other?”

“High school and college; the story involves all sharing one house at some point,” Courfeyrac explained.

Musichetta crossed herself. “A horror I never want to see again.”

“You live with Joly _and_ Bossuet,” Bahorel reminded her.

“Yes, but that means going without Combeferre’s experiments, Courfeyrac bringing home literally anyone for hot chocolate and movies, or your using up every single band-aid in the house,” Musichetta said, ticking these off with her fingers.

“I’m cut to the core,” Courfeyrac said as he clutched dramatically at his chest.  “You are such a cruel woman, Chetta.”

Joly snickered as he casually slipped an arm around Musichetta’s shoulders. “That is why she is dating _me_.” He waved to Louison, who was just entering the cafeteria with some other fellows from the anaesthesiology department. “She’s in a good mood.”

Eponine bit her lip even as she glanced towards Louison, who merely gave her a brief smile and a nod. ‘ _All is well,’_ the surgeon reassured herself. “How is Mabeuf?” she asked Joly.

“Under observation,” Joly replied. “Luckily he didn’t get any spinal cord injuries with that pistol whipping,” he added.

Eponine sighed with relief as she picked up some noodles with a pair of chopsticks.  She felt a jab in her side and she turned to meet Musichetta’s mischievous grin. “What?”

“Most of the ladies here would _kill_ to be you now,” Musichetta whispered.

Eponine stopped to swallow a mouthful of noodles. “I expected he’d at least be polite to someone who spent the better part of the afternoon with her hands in his abdominal cavity.”

Musichetta’s jaw dropped, Joly nearly spat out his drink, while the rest of the group burst out laughing. “I take that you won. Almost any other woman who’s argued with him ended up reduced to tears. And no, Louison and his mother do not count,” Joly explained.

“Eponine, where have you been all my life?” Bahorel laughed.

“No, where have you been all of _Enjolras’_ life?” Courfeyrac muttered before Combeferre gave him a warning look.

Eponine looked to Musichetta for sympathy, only to find her smiling wickedly as she toyed with her earrings. “Chetta, no. Just no.”

“You know, he’s not going to be your patient forever,” Musichetta quipped.

“Chetta!”

Navet looked around innocently. “There’s nothing in the rules against _looking_.”

“Watch it, Navet. For as long as you’re still on duty, I can give you demerits,” Eponine warned. She looked towards where Marius was entering the cafeteria wearing an extremely gleeful grin. She waved to him. “Over here!”

Marius laughed happily as he exchanged a high-five with Courfeyrac and saluted Bahorel. “Am I glad to see you,” he said breathlessly before he pulled a granola bar out of his pocket. “The most amazing thing happened to me today.”

“What, a free pass on that exam?” Musichetta asked.

Marius shook his head. He flushed quite visibly as he looked around the table. “I need to send an important text to a lady. How should I do it?”

Eponine couldn’t help but smile. “That depends on what you have to say.”

“That’s the problem, Ponine. There is a lot I want to say, but I don’t know how to do it without sounding like a cad or blubbering fool on the phone,” Marius said. “I managed to get her number, but I didn’t get her whole name!”

Eponine gripped the edge of the table even as she felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. She looked at her half-empty plate, all the while wishing that everyone was laughing too hard at Marius to notice how she had taken this tidbit. ‘ _Who could that have been?’_ she wondered even as she felt Musichetta clutch her wrist sympathetically.

“Pontmercy how is that sort of thing possible? You got a girl’s number but didn’t get her name?” Courfeyrac clarified.

“We just got talking!” Marius said. “She was in the waiting room at the neuro department.”

“I think I saw her. Petite, blonde, almost no makeup, lovely eyes, wearing this cute sundress?” Courfeyrac asked.

Marius nodded.  “She was there with her dad, or at least I think it was her dad. They run some sort of foundation and they were accompanying this old lady with a stutter. Anyway I asked her a little bit about the lady first, and then somehow the conversation turned elsewhere. She’s a registered nurse, but she works at the foundation her dad runs, not at a hospital. We just talked till she agreed to give me her number. The thing was, before I could really finish keying it in, her dad showed up.”

Navet whistled. “Bad timing.”

“Yeah. I have her number, but what do I text? ‘Hey do you remember me, I was that doc who met you and Mrs. Touissant earlier’?” Marius asked despondently.

Musichetta started at the name. “Mrs. Touissant? Isn’t she the executive assistant of that philanthropist Mr. Fauchelevent? I had to call her up about a patient or two referred to me.”

“Fauchelevent. Yes, I think that came up,” Marius said. “She—the girl---is Fauchelevent’s daughter?”

This was all the confirmation that Eponine needed. “Her name is Cosette,” she muttered.

Marius gaped at her. “You know her?”

Eponine smiled, hoping that this could help her sound less bitter. “We met in undergrad.”

“Ah yes, you took nursing,” Marius said cheerily. “Was she nice?”

“She didn’t have enemies,” Eponine said flatly. ‘ _Of all people, why her?’_ she wanted to ask. Cosette had been nice, but the simple fact was that she was everything that Eponine wasn’t: sweet, poised, popular, happy, and most of all secure. ‘ _As for me, I might have said that I was living on a prayer, if I believed in anything at all,’_ she thought.

“What’s her favourite color?” Marius asked.

“She used to say it was amber.”

“Is she into music?”

Eponine sighed deeply. “Who isn’t? Don’t trust me on this, Marius. I haven’t been in touch with her since graduation,” she said as she set down the chopsticks.

Combeferre eyed her concernedly. “Eponine, are you okay?”

She nodded as she took a gulp of water and then got to her feet. “I have to start making rounds.”

Marius held out a granola bar. “Want one?”

Eponine sighed and stuck her hand in her pocket to prevent from taking the granola bar. “It’s okay. Keep it.” She quickly walked out of the cafeteria, all the while making sure not to look anyone in the eye lest someone inquire as to her sudden upset.

Just before she reached the elevator she heard a pair of light footsteps behind her. She turned and saw Musichetta standing there with a sad smile on her face. “What about Joly?” Eponine asked as she gestured back towards the cafeteria.

“Let the boys have some time to catch up,” Musichetta said. She waited till they were in the elevator before hugging her friend. “I didn’t mean to jinx it, honestly. Sorry about that.”

It took Eponine a moment to remember the funny conversation she and Musichetta had before the news of the shooting had broken out. “I’ll be fine. He’s just a guy,” she said thickly.

Musichetta shook her head. “Oh, Ponine, don’t invalidate things just like that. Cosette sounds like she’s great, but Marius is missing a lot by not seeing you.”

Eponine scoffed. “Weren’t you trying to dissuade me hours ago?”

“Marius is a good guy, but you’re a great person,” Musichetta said as the elevator doors opened onto the sixth floor, where the wards were. “Don’t forget that.”

Eponine managed a nod. “Thanks. I’ll be fine with my rounds. I don’t want to keep you away from Joly for too long.”

“Are you sure?”

“They’re your friends too.”

Musichetta nodded. “When you’re done, you should join us for coffee. It would be good for you. I’ll even call Marius off if you like.”

“Maybe,” Eponine said before the elevator doors shut again. ‘ _Maybe I really should take her up on that offer,’_ she thought as she walked faster. If ever it gave her more impetus to finish her rounds more quickly, and would certainly take her mind off her troubles in and out of the hospital.

At the close of an hour there was only one room that Eponine had yet to visit. She took a deep breath and went to the nurse’s station to fetch Enjolras’ chart. When she arrived there she found the nurses discussing agitatedly among themselves. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“It’s all about the patient at Room 642,” Mrs. Hucheloup, the head nurse on duty, replied in an exhausted and exasperated tone.

“He’s being hostile?”

“Well, he’s being civil at least but I really have to stop these chits from hovering about there especially at a time like this. It’s ruining the contingency plan. We can’t have people going in and out.”

Eponine sighed as she looked at the chart in her hands. Thankfully it seemed as if her patient was stable and would not need the constant presence of a nurse. ‘ _Vital signs improving and there’s no need for extra oxygen---it’s just the wounds and infection we have to watch for,’_ she thought. “I think we can go back to the more usual schedule of monitoring vital signs instead of going in every thirty minutes or so. The staff on duty can stay here at the nurse’s station. I’m on call on this floor all night,” she said.

Mrs. Hucheloup nodded understandingly. “It’s a little irregular, isn’t it, Doc? You don’t have to do the night watch yourself.”

“It’s my job to make sure he gets out of here alive,” Eponine said with a shrug. She saw Courfeyrac walking up to the counter, waving at some of the younger nurses going off to see patients. “Care to help me deal with the holier than thou terror?” she asked.

Courfeyrac laughed. “I’ll keep that nickname on file.” He cringed as he heard a yelp followed by some choice swear words. “And not a moment sooner!”

Eponine raced ahead of them and pushed the hospital room door open. “What the hell did you do to yourself?” she hissed as she ran to where Enjolras was pressing the blanket to his hand.

“I don’t think this is necessary,” Enjolras muttered as he pressed harder over where he had just pulled out his IV line. “It was also starting to sting.”

“You could have asked,” Eponine pointed out sharply as she examined the wound. She could see that the IV port had been a little awkwardly placed, owing perhaps to the haste in inserting it earlier in the day. She looked to Mrs. Hucheloup, who had managed to stop the IV fluid from dripping out the tube and splattering all over the floor. “I’ll need a bandage, another IV port, some swabs, and some extra tape,” she said.

“You’re not taping my hand to the bed,” Enjolras said.

“If I have to, I will,” Eponine retorted.

Courfeyrac shrugged when Enjolras looked at him. “She means business, buddy.”

Enjolras scowled petulantly. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I am, that’s why I’m letting her have her way with you,” Courfeyrac said gleefully.

‘ _Good thing that no one else was around to hear that,’_ Eponine thought as Mrs. Hucheloup returned with the supplies. She sat down next to Enjolras’ bed and first set about to bandaging his other hand, taking care to smooth down the band-aid so he would have no chance of picking it off. “I hope you’re ambidextrous; you’ll have to use your left hand for the next few days since I’m sticking the line into your right hand now,” she explained.

Enjolras winced at this information. “Can’t you just try a different place on the same hand?”

“Some would do that, but I would prefer not to,” Eponine said as she took his right hand and traced the tortuous blue veins running from between his rough knuckles and over the back of his hand. Setting up a line here would be more of a challenge than she expected. ‘ _How does a man get his hands to be this rough if he is a lawyer and politician?’_ she wondered.

Enjolras watched her cautiously. “By the way it doesn’t matter. I’m actually left handed.”

“Well good for you!” She carefully swabbed an area towards the middle of his hand and then placed the IV needle over this spot, making sure that the bevel was up. She felt him flinch as the metal met his skin and she grabbed his fingers more tightly to hold him still. After a moment she was able to guide the IV line in smoothly, after which she grabbed several strips of tape to secure it. "For someone with such a pretty and brilliant head, you really do have shitty timing." 

"Thanks for the sympathy," Enjolras flinched again as Eponine taped the IV line to his hand. "You’re worse than the night nurse." 

"Shut up. Just shut up," Eponine snapped. "Next time, do me a favor and try not to stand in the line of fire. I’d hate to stitch you up again." 

“Or get a bullet-proof vest,” Courfeyrac chimed in. He fished for his phone in his pocket. “Oh drat, that’s my mother,” he said before stepping out of the room.

Enjolras let out a deep breath as he looked at Eponine seriously. “Would an apology suffice?”

She started at these words and looked at him. “An apology for what?”

“For how I acted in the recovery room,” he said as he still held her gaze. “That was very unbecoming of me and poor thanks as well.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “You ought to add one also for what you did just now.”

He sighed deeply as he shifted in an attempt to get comfortable again. “Things are only getting worse outside. Dr. Louison told me earlier.”

“Dr. Mabeuf was hurt when someone tried to search the hospital,” Eponine informed him. “He’ll live; he’s just under observation.”

Enjolras gritted his teeth as he sat up again, but this time allowed himself to be supported by the pillows. “This is why I can’t stay. Enough people have been hurt.”

Eponine rolled her eyes. “I told you already, no. If I let you out, now especially, that would be negligent. I wouldn’t even give you an hour out there till someone finds you...” She trailed off when she saw him look down. “I talked to Courfeyrac and Bahorel. I think they went through a lot to get you here. Don’t you owe it at least to them? To Combeferre too?” she added.

He looked at her keenly. “I’m of no use to them here.”

“You’re no use to them dead either,” she blurted out.

Before Enjolras could muster a reply to this, Courfeyrac returned to the room and was followed moments later by Bahorel, Joly, and Musichetta. “Combeferre will be here soon,” Courfeyrac informed Enjolras. “He’s just visiting his own patients.”

“And Marius?” Eponine asked. She bit her lip hard almost as soon as she said this.

“Down at the neuro ward,” Joly replied.

Eponine nodded, now feeling suddenly too embarrassed to look at her friends or even at her patient. ‘ _Is this what I get for going the extra mile?’_ she wondered as she sat back in her chair, wishing she could do anything to skip the long hours ahead. 


	4. Bump in the Night

**Chapter 4: Bump In the Night**

It was only to be expected that being confined to a hospital bed was not enough to dull Enjolras’ focus on the goings-on beyond the Saint-Michel Hospital. “It’s not too late for the news. Can someone please hand me the TV remote?” he asked the group gathered in his room.

“You really are incorrigible, Enjolras,” Combeferre said from the doorway. He stepped aside to let Courfeyrac out to take another call. “Then again if you weren’t, that would be cause for serious worry just now.”

“Why would you go for a TV broadcast when you can use the wi-fi here on your phone, for free?” Joly asked as he tossed the remote over.

“My phone got broken in the...incident,” Enjolras said as he caught the remote. The ache in his left hand was already abating, making him thankful that Eponine had reinserted the IV in his other arm instead.

In the meantime Eponine keyed in something into her phone and shook her head. “The news reports say you’re everything from a goner to in critical condition,” she said as she held up her phone to show a feed from an evening news segment.

Enjolras scoffed. “It’s time to disabuse them of that notion.”

“I told you---“Eponine warned.

“I can do it without leaving this room,” Enjolras said. ‘ _It’s only the second best idea but it will have to do for now,’_ he thought. While he would have wanted to be on his feet and facing down those responsible for the shooting in the square, he could already feel exhaustion catching up to him as well as some lingering pain from the operation and from having moved about. “I think I need another round of painkillers,” he muttered.

“Don’t you have a pump for that already? You can control it yourself,” Combeferre said as he mimed pushing a button.

“I ripped out my IV,” Enjolras admitted, all the while trying to keep a straight face as well as avoid Eponine’s annoyed look. “Dr. Thenardier had to put it back in.”

“Enjolras, only you can still be overly formal when the lady already had her hands all over your body,” Bahorel sniggered.

“You can be a little juvenile sometimes,” Combeferre scolded.

“Did I say anything that wasn’t the truth?” Bahorel quipped.

Enjolras glared at him before looking to where Eponine was examining and then rearranging the IV set up. “Shouldn’t you call the nurse?” he asked.

“I _know_ how to do this,” Eponine said as she located the painkiller pump and checked the connection there. “It’s still on lock out mode; you won’t be able to get another dose for ten minutes.”

“Sorry, it’s only to prevent overdosing by mistake,” Combeferre chimed in.

Enjolras swore and gritted his teeth as he tried to lie still and focus on the news report coming up on the TV screen. For the first time he saw footage of the protest, but despite the slight distance that a playback normally offered, the brutality was more than enough to make him seem red. He shook his head on seeing a clip of several bleeding protesters being shoved towards a large van headed for the detention block; the cameraman had apparently been trampled after this since the clip soon crackled into static. “Any word from Feuilly yet?” he asked.

“That was just Feuilly on the phone. Bossuet is with him and they’ve contacted some lawyers,” Courfeyrac said.

“That’s good.”

“Not exactly. Ordinance 95 is already in place.”

Joly and Musichetta stopped in the middle of their conversation, Combeferre rested his chin on his hands as his brow knotted with fury, and Eponine cringed, while Bahorel swore explosively. “What’s the point of lawyers now if there’s not going to be a trial or even just an arraignment?”” Bahorel finally said.

“The only thing they are entitled to now would be indefinite and painful detention,” Musichetta muttered.

Joly looked up. “Enjolras, what are we going to do?”

Enjolras took a careful breath if only not to aggravate the pain in his ribs. It was a question he’d heard time and again; in fact if not for the hospital setting and Eponine’s presence he might have thought that this was just another meeting with old friends and comrades. He glanced at Eponine and noticed that her gaze was far-off even as she continued to look through the news on her phone. Granted, she was his physician, but was it still safe to mention anything in her hearing? Yet Combeferre trusted her and it seemed as if their other friends had a high regard for her as well. Would this be enough? 

At that moment the scene on the TV switched to show a reporter speaking to a large man in the regalia of a senior police officer. “ _Joining us is Senior Inspector Javert of the East Police District. Inspector, are there any leads as to who could be behind the shooting incident?”_ the reporter asked.

On screen Javert adjusted his hat, but it was still not enough to conceal the bandage over his right eyebrow or his prominent sideburns. “ _We are still in the process of investigation,”_ he answered gruffly. “ _Right now we are still trying to restore order in the vicinity and prevent further casualties.”_

 _“Inspector, can you comment on the allegations of the police using excessive force during the dispersal?”_ the reporter asked, raising his voice over the piercing whine of an ambulance siren.

Javert’s eyes seemed to darken at this query. “ _We exercised our policy of maximum tolerance, but despite that we have 30 injured personnel,”_ he answered.

The reporter checked his phone. “ _Is it true that there are at least fifty people who have been reported missing in the aftermath of the dispersal?”_

“ _All efforts are being exerted to locate these persons,”_ Javert replied more curtly. “ _If anyone has any information on their whereabouts, it would be greatly appreciated.”_

 _“Inspector, we have also heard that Ordinance 95 has already been in effect since late this afternoon. For how long will this order be in place?”_ the reporter asked in a more cautious tone.

“ _For as long as necessary, till we can safely contain the threats to the government and the civilians, and curb the unrest in the city,”_ the inspector said. He gave the camera a keen sidelong glance. “ _The citizens have nothing to fear.”_

“ _Thank you for your time, Inspector--,”_ the reporter chirped before the display suddenly dimmed and in a matter of seconds crackled into static.

“That lying pig!” Bahorel roared before Musichetta grabbed him by his shoulders to calm him down. “Did you see---“

“We saw and we heard,” Eponine deadpanned.

“He’s probably only speaking for Chief of Police, Gisquet,” Musichetta remarked more furiously. “Typical of Gisquet.”

“He’s not the only shark out there,” Courfeyrac said. “Gisquet doesn’t work with shooters.”

“But with searchers,” Joly pointed out. He gestured to the remote in Enjolras’ hand. “There might be something else on another channel.”                                                                           

Enjolras pressed the remote, only to find nothing but static on any channel that screened the local news. He saw Combeferre starting to fiddle with his own phone, which he sometimes used as a radio, but after a few moments the surgeon shook his head.

“Everything is jammed,” Combeferre said. “All the stations are down.”

“That’s messed up,” Eponine said as she snatched his phone. “There must be something wrong---“

“Sweetheart, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but this looks like it’s a blackout,” Bahorel said as he clenched his fist.  “With the congress suspended and disbanded, that means we’re now at the mercy of the armed forces: military and police.”

‘ _Who will not only be free to commit atrocities but also to hide them,’_ Enjolras realized. There was little time left to act before all communication would become difficult, if not downright impossible. “Courfeyrac, may I please borrow your phone?” he asked.

Courfeyrac grinned knowingly as he handed his phone over. “You’re going to get Feuilly and Bossuet more involved?”

“No, I’m getting into their situation,” Enjolras said as he searched for his friend’s number. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk at the exasperated look that Eponine threw his way. He breathed a sigh of relief when the call came through and he could put the phone on speaker mode. “Hello Feuilly. How is everything there?”

“Enjolras?! What the hell took you so long to call? Hang on a moment” Feuilly’s voice growled from the other end of the line, but nevertheless the happiness in his tone was evident. For a few moments there were only the sounds of surprised conversation followed by the creaking of a door opening and shutting. Feuilly was almost whispering when he spoke again. “The detainees here are asking if you’re alive. Everyone saw you go down.”

“Well I won’t be for long. Have you kept track of the news?” Enjolras asked.

“The inspector’s statement,” Feuilly said. “Anything new?”

“There seems to be a problem with TV and radio broadcasts and it will be a little late by the time we can deal with the presses,” Enjolras said. “Have you and Bossuet got a list of the names of everyone in the detention block? Pictures as well?”

“Names, yes, but fat chance with the pictures,” Feuilly muttered. “We can get them out on the Internet, with the detainees’ permission of course. I think they’d be more than happy to.”

“As many networks, even blogs---you can probably even pull Jehan out of whatever spoken word gig he’s doing now, if he’s still there,” Enjolras said. “Call it: “ _We’re Still Alive_.”.”

“Hashtag _Cell Block 1832,”_ Feuilly said. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Hey Enjolras, you’re still alive too and you have to prove it,” Courfeyrac said. “It’s selfie time!”

Enjolras rolled his eyes while everyone else in the room burst out laughing, while over the phone Feuilly could barely contain his chuckles. While he had a healthy appreciation for most practices with social media, this was one he could not bring himself to indulge in. “Is that necessary?”

“You may as well,” Combeferre advised. “It’s proof enough.”

“Don’t make it look like a mug shot,” Courfeyrac quipped.

Eponine shook her head. “Is that a good idea? That will send another wave of searchers over here.”

“It’s only logical that he was brought here after the shooting, so there’s no point in hiding it. We can’t have people mistakenly thinking that he is in detention too,” Bahorel argued.

“That’s going to put all our efforts here to waste,” Combeferre pointed out.       “At least don’t mention your location till the situation is safer.”

Enjolras nodded, seeing the point in his friend’s words. “Right. Feuilly, are you still listening?” he said into the phone. “I’ll send it along in a minute.”

“Alright then. I have to run; I only said I was going to the washroom. See your face soon,” Feuilly replied furtively before quickly ending the call.

‘ _Here goes nothing,’_ Enjolras thought as he held up Courfeyrac’s phone to snap the photo. He simply captioned the picture as: ‘ _Alive and recovering,’_ before signing it with his name and sending it to Feuilly’s number. “Thank you. I owe you lunch or something when I get back on my feet,” he said as he passed the phone back to his friend.

“Lunch for us and dinner for---“ Joly muttered before Combeferre cuffed him. “It’s only an idea!”

In the meantime Musichetta had gone to a corner to take a call of her own. She hissed before pocketing her phone. “I have to go to my patient. See you guys in a _long_ while,” she said before dashing out of the room. Joly followed suit a split second later.

Combeferre checked his watch. “I also need to speak to the guardians of one of my patients.” He nodded to Eponine. “Will you need anything?”

Eponine looked from Enjolras, and then to Courfeyrac and Bahorel. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Actually I’m in need of caffeine. The coffee shop downstairs is open 24/7, isn’t it?” Bahorel said. He stopped to stick something near the edge of Enjolras’ bed. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

“The cheesecakes there look good,” Courfeyrac agreed as he clapped Bahorel on his back.

Enjolras sat up straight only to end up biting back a groan as pain shot through his midsection. He scrabbled for the painkiller pump and pressed the button there. “Traitors,” he muttered even as his friends quickly left the room, narrowly evading Eponine’s attempt to shut them in as well.

The surgeon glared at the door and clenched her fists. “That’s very nice of them,” she groused as she stalked back to her chair at the bedside. “How are you holding up?”

“A little better,” Enjolras admitted. It was just as well that the painkiller was kicking in quickly, thus making it easier for him to speak. After a while he managed to shift his blanket such that he was covered from waist down. “I’ll get those two to stay up once they get back,” he offered. “You could go back to the call room.”

She rolled her eyes. “This chair is softer than those in the call room.” She glanced down at her phone and shook her head as she fiddled with something on the screen. “Both the wi-fi and the cell signals are gone. Just my luck.”

Something about Eponine’s tone struck Enjolras as somewhat more sad as opposed to irritated. “Who are you trying to contact?” he asked.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Well sorry for being concerned.”

Her eyes flashed as she looked at him. “If you must know, I have two younger siblings at home, all the way across this city. I’d feel a lot better if I could be with them right now and make sure they’re safe, especially with what’s going out there.” She sighed deeply and shook her head as she pocketed her phone. “Not like you have to care. I really shouldn’t be taking this out on you,” she mumbled.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Now _that_ really isn’t any of your business,” she said more seriously. She sat back in the armchair and crossed her arms as a sort of quizzical, almost studious look crossed her face. “I know you aren’t a stupid man. You graduated top of your law class, had a heap of job offers in the best firms _ever_ , but you still chose the public service. You’re a congressman who’s doing things the hard way. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Someone has to fight,” he replied. “You saw for yourself what this government is doing to the people. I’m not taking this sitting down.”

“Yeah, that’s the best excuse I’ve heard for ignoring the instinct for self-preservation,” she drawled.

“With all due respect, Doctor, I don’t believe everything is about survival,” Enjolras said as he looked her in the eye. “People are capable of striving for something more.”

“When push comes to shove, survival is all what people want, and sometimes the most they can get,” Eponine replied. “I see it every day.”

“Yet in the end your outcome isn’t just to have a breathing patient, but to actually have that person back to his or her normal life?” Enjolras pointed out as he tried to hold back a yawn. “I would hardly call that being content with survival.”

“I’m a doctor. It’s my job,” Eponine said. “Don’t talk like you know _anything_ about my life or what I think, or why I do things, Mr. Enjolras.”

“Don’t tell me how to run mine either,” he retorted.

She stared at him long and hard before pushing her seat such that she was all the way across the room. “I have to do some reading. You’d better get some sleep,” she said over her shoulder. “Good night.”

“Same to you,” he muttered through gritted teeth as he shut his eyes. ‘ _How on earth did Combeferre befriend someone like her?’_ he wondered as he finally felt lassitude catch up to him, and then much needed oblivion.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that the lights in the room were now dimmed, even on Eponine’s side of the room. He looked around for his other friends, but as he half-expected, there was no sign that any of them had returned to the room. ‘ _And that must not be them either,’_ he realized as he heard heavy footfalls in the corridor. He listened keenly as the footsteps paused at intervals, but nevertheless steadily headed in the direction of his room.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 1:30 am. ‘ _What lovely timing,’_ he thought.  After so many years of living with his life on the line, Enjolras knew better than to simply ignore the sounds of footsteps pausing outside his door even at this hour. Somehow he couldn’t help but wonder how Eponine could sleep through the sound, given that she was in a quite uncomfortable position curled up in a hard chair across the hospital room. As quietly as he could, he inched over to the edge of his bed and scrabbled with his fingers to fiddle with the lever there, ignoring the twinge in his other hand from the tightly taped IV line as well as the searing pain flaring up in his ribs.

Thank heavens that Bahorel had put the hold out pistol where it was easy to reach, just under the lever.

The door flew open with a resounding slam as Enjolras managed to cock the pistol. He pointed the pistol straight at the masked face in front of him. “Don’t move.”

The masked assassin growled and raised a gun of his own. As Enjolras expected, this weapon was fitted with a silencer. “Put it down or she gets it,” the assassin muttered, gesturing into the darkness.

Enjolras shook his head. No way was he going to allow this man to shoot a defenceless woman, much less someone who had saved his life. “No. You put your weapon down first, back away slowly, or I will wake her up,” he threatened.

The assassin stepped forward but suddenly yelped as a hand grabbed him from behind. “I’ve got him. Call the nurses’ station,” Eponine instructed. Somehow she had a scalpel blade out, and was poking this dangerously close to the man’s neck.

Enjolras moved to press the call button when he suddenly heard a rustling from the window. “Get down!” he shouted before firing right where he saw a gun barrel poking in between the jalousies. The first assassin grunted as he tried to get free before he suddenly crumpled to the floor, seemingly immobilized by the petite surgeon. Enjolras fired again at the window just as another shot came from the direction of the doorway. Glass scattered everywhere even as a grunt came from outside followed by the sound of someone fleeing.

"I think you got him," Combeferre said from where he stood in the doorway, holding a pistol of his own. "Eponine, let him up. I’m sure he’s almost blue in the face."

Eponine pushed the man she had been immobilizing onto his back and shook him, forcing a gasp from his lips. “Don’t fake it. Who sent you?” she hissed.

The goon sneered at her before spitting in her face. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He craned his neck to give Enjolras a defiant sneer. “Here’s to your precious Republic!” he jeered before grinding his teeth and suddenly gasping before going limp on the floor.

“Oh hell no!” Eponine shouted as she tried to shake the man on the floor. “Wake up!”

“Eponine, get away from him!” Combeferre said, pulling her away from the assailant. His eyes were wide as he looked at the nurses and orderlies who were now at the doorway. “Time of death, 1:31 am. Forget the crash cart. We need the police.”


	5. The Suspect and Dissident

****

**Chapter 5: The Suspect and the Dissident**

“I didn’t shake him that hard! How could he be dead?”

“Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t your doing Dr. Thenardier.”

Eponine looked sharply at Enjolras, who was looking oddly comfortable despite the fact that he’d spent the past quarter of an hour lying on a gurney. The two of them, along with Combeferre, had been immediately ushered out of the crime scene and into another empty room down the hall. “How can you be so sure?” she hissed.”Everyone saw me right next to him!”

“I was there too,” Enjolras pointed out. “I saw what happened before he became unconscious.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is that even going to hold up in court?”

“Unfortunately Eponine has a point,” Combeferre chimed in from where he was pacing near the window. “It’s hard to trust anything nowadays especially with regard to eyewitness testimonies. Given your current standing, it might cast more doubt to the circumstances as opposed to clearing things up.”

“What about CCTV footage?” Eponine asked.

Enjolras shook his head. Some of his hair fell into his eyes and he had to pause to get it out of his face. “It was knocked out before the attack. I heard the security talking.” 

 “Our best hope for evidence is a forensic examination. Corpses don’t lie,” Combeferre said.

“Still, the examination will be done by the police,” Eponine muttered miserably, practically spitting out the last word.  ‘ _I’m not a murderer, but they won’t see that,’_ she thought as she looked at her hands, which even on the best of days were rough and a little cracked from scrubbing in nearly every day for the past eight or so years. There were many things she was capable of, and even prided herself on, but intentionally taking a life just did not make the list.

In the meantime Enjolras managed to carefully prop himself up on his elbows. “How did you get that gun?” he asked Combeferre.

“A thug on the third floor. Musichetta and I took him out; thank goodness Musichetta was in high heels today,” Combeferre replied. “Courfeyrac and Bahorel also got out of a scuffle near the ER.”

“Where are Joly and Navet? What about Louison?” Eponine asked worriedly. “And Marius?”

“They’re all fine. Pontmercy dealt with someone trying to break into Mabeuf’s room,” Combeferre said. He threw up his hands resignedly. “The plan is blown.”

“No wonder the CCTV is gone... “Eponine trailed off. The possibilities surfacing in her mind were too dreadful to contemplate at length. “Someone told about the new room assignments, just before the phones or the web went dead,” she mused aloud.

“That’s only one possibility,” Enjolras said. He set his jaw as the door swung open. “Good morning Inspector Javert.”

“To you as well, Mr. Enjolras,” Javert greeted gruffly. The sickly light of the hospital room only made the bandage on his brow stand out more gruesomely against his salt and pepper hair. He carried with him a sleek tablet in a dark blue case. “Good morning Dr. Thenardier. Good morning, Dr. Combeferre,” he addressed the two surgeons. “Am I correct with that?”

Combeferre made a civil reply while Eponine clenched her fists before raising her head.  ‘ _Hiding will only make things worse since he’ll remember who I am after a time,’_ she decided quietly. “Inspector, what is happening here?” she finally said.

“We’re investigating multiple attacks involving patients and personnel of this hospital, Dr. Thenardier,” Javert replied. “With all due respect though, I’m here to ask the questions, not answer them.”

Enjolras gritted his teeth impatiently. “With all due respect too, Inspector, I also have some questions about the arrests earlier this afternoon.”

“Enjolras, please shut up,” Eponine muttered under her breath.

Javert eyed them for a moment before bringing out the tablet. He keyed in a few lines on the screen before looking at the trio he was to question. “Dr. Combeferre, as the attending physician of Mr. Auguste Enjolras---“

Combeferre cleared his throat. “Actually I’m not his attending physician. Dr. Thenardier is.”

Javert looked up from his typing and narrowed his eyes at Eponine. It seemed for a moment as if his brow crinkled in an expression of recognition but he quickly adopted his serious demeanour again. “Indeed. Very well then, Dr. Thenardier, can you verify that Mr. Auguste Enjolras has at present the mental and physical capacity to provide a material statement regarding the attack on Room 642?” he asked pointedly.

‘ _Either he thinks that Enjolras is mad or just still a little foggy from the meds,’_ Eponine realized. “He is more than capable, Sir,” she replied.

Javert nodded before continuing his typing. “I must ask you two to leave before I question Mr. Enjolras further,” he said after a few moments to Eponine and Combeferre. “You may remain near the room in case of an emergency.”

Eponine scowled as she followed her friend out into the hallway. A police agent waiting there motioned for them to stay several paces away from the door. ‘ _It’s going to get ugly in there,’_ she thought as she leaned against the wall and clenched her fists such that she could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” she said at length.

“Eponine, it’s not as if Inspector Javert is going to take a pillow and smother Enjolras with it,” Combeferre reminded her.

“That’s the least of my worries, really, especially after that gunfight,” Eponine said. “He’s got enough fight in him to knock the inspector flat.”

Combeferre chuckled as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. “That’s Enjolras for you. He’s earned more detention time than anyone I know because of his feistiness.”

“And you were sitting in right next to him, each time.”

“Naturally.”

Eponine smiled at the mental image of Enjolras and Combeferre, perhaps ten or even twenty years younger, sitting in front of an irate teacher or policeman.  She looked at the clock near the nurse’s station, where the time now read 2:05 am. ‘ _Will I still be able to say anything coherent by the time it’s my turn?’_ she wondered. The dizzying feeling of sleeplessness combined with the brightness of the fluorescent lights overhead made shut her eyes, but after a moment she had to pinch her wrist to force herself back to alertness. ‘ _I’m not that girl on the floor of the stationhouse. It’s my patient I’m waiting for, not my parents,’_ she reminded herself.

Combeferre stepped aside to let another police agent pass by. “What are the odds we’ll run into some of the ER Friday regulars?” he asked.

“Quite high,” Eponine said. There were a handful of policemen who’d gained a reputation at the Saint-Michel Hospital for hauling in drunks and other mischief makers every weekend or so. She glanced at the still closed door to her right. “I’m surprised that Inspector Javert didn’t recognize me.”

Combeferre’s eyes widened. “Was he involved in---“

“The arrest,” Eponine said with a sigh.

“You weren’t even culpable then,” he pointed out.

‘ _I knew a little bit but not enough,’_ she thought but she merely shrugged it off. “Gavroche is going to find this funny. First my parents, and now me. I just hope that he and Azelma don’t get their day either with the police.”

“Your parents did....things. You’re different,” Combeferre reassured her.

Eponine managed a smile just before the door to the hospital room opened and Javert stepped out. The inspector’s lips were set in a tight, irate line even when he looked at the two doctors. “Ladies first. Right this way, Dr. Thenardier,” he said, indicating another room.

“Wait a minute. How is Mr. Enjolras?” Eponine asked.

“He’s well and resting,” Javert said. “If you cooperate, this will not take long.”

Eponine nodded to Combeferre before following Javert to the room he indicated. This place was bare except for a stripped iron bedstead and two chairs. She sat down cautiously in one chair while waiting for Javert to finish looking through his notes. _‘Some of it might depend on what Enjolras said back there,’_ she realized.

At length Javert set down his tablet on his lap. “You have come quite a long way, Eponine Thenardier,” he said bluntly. “How are your siblings?”

“They are doing well,” Eponine replied, trying her best not to sound curt.

“Very good,” Javert said. “The records say you’ve been working at this hospital for six years now. Before that you were employed in a variety of jobs: research assistant, clerk, waitressing, medical transcription, to name a few. Quite impressive.”

“A scholarship can only go so far,” Eponine said. “You might remember how old my siblings were when you and your squad came after our parents.”

“You were a child then,” Javert replied in a grating tone. “Now on to our situation, Miss Thenardier. I trust you were aware as to the circumstances surrounding the admission of Mr. Auguste Enjolras to the emergency department, and his subsequent referral.”

“I am. He was shot thrice at the demonstration, and it was Dr. Combeferre who endorsed him to me for surgery,” she answered, making sure to stress her friend’s designation.

“Were you aware of the contingency plan for the security of this hospital?”

“Only what I needed to know, meaning if it concerned me or my patient.”

Javert raised an eyebrow as he typed in his notes with one hand while he used the other to search his pockets for a pack of gum. “Did this plan require your presence in Mr. Enjolras’ hospital room at 1:30 in the morning?”

“Not originally,” Eponine said. “I talked it over with the head nurse of the evening shift, Mrs. Hucheloup, since there were far too many nurses going in and out of the room and causing a disturbance.”

“Not taking chances, hmm,” Javert muttered. “Did you call for anyone to relieve you?”

“No.”

“Please state what you were doing at the time of the incident.”

Eponine took a deep breath. “I was asleep, and I woke up because I heard the door open. I saw right away that the man who entered had a mask and a gun. He was threatening Mr. Enjolras, and I heard him also say something about harming me. I used a spare scalpel blade to immobilize him, but I did not harm him or draw blood—“

Javert looked pointedly at her. “Why did you have a scalpel blade on your person?”

“For emergencies. I’m not the only surgeon who does that,” Eponine replied, clenching her fists again. “I told Mr. Enjolras to call for the nurse’s station but there was another gunman at the window.”

“Did you also attack this second gunman?” Javert asked.

“No, I had my hands full with the first.”

“Did you recognize either of them?”

Eponine shook her head. “The first was masked, I never saw the second.”

“Were you aware that your patient had a firearm among his belongings?” Javert inquired.

“No,” Eponine said. ‘ _Why didn’t I see it earlier though?’_ she wondered silently. Perhaps she had taken for granted that a man in as much danger as Enjolras was would take precautions for his safety, and maybe even had a permit to carry a gun.

Javert’s eyes narrowed at her. “Were you aware that the manner in which you handled the assailant may have led to his eventual demise?”

Eponine’s jaw dropped as she gaped at Javert. “I did not impede his breathing or anything! All I did was hold him still, push him onto the floor and well, shake him a little. That’s all. He had no signs of distress when he first came into the room.”

“Hopefully the medical examination will corroborate that statement, Dr. Thenardier,” Javert said in a clipped tone as he set aside his tablet. “You are facing a precarious situation. Not only are you proven to be assisting an individual in conflict with the law, you are a suspect in a homicide or at least in an act of reckless imprudence resulting in one. You not only risk an extended jail sentence, but also the suspension or total revocation of your license to practice.”

The last prospect in particular sent a chill through Eponine and she clenched her fists more tightly such that her knuckles went white. ‘ _Everything will go down the drain and it will be as if I never got out of the gutter,’_ she thought, already hearing her parents’ jeers from behind the bars of their jail cell. Despite this she willed herself to look Javert in the face. “How can I be penalized for trying to save someone else, or even myself?”

“Your cooperation in this investigation may mitigate the circumstances,” Javert continued as if he had not heard her question.

“I am only communicating with Mr. Enjolras in the context of a doctor-patient relationship. I think there are rules about that sort of confidentiality, and given that I’ve only seen him conscious for a few hours, there’s hardly anything of value I know,” she retorted as she crossed her arms. _‘I probably should have stayed awake in medical jurisprudence class. I’m sure there’s a better way of saying it,’_ she realized after Javert gave her a quizzical look.

“He is a dangerous man responsible for the present unrest,” Javert reminded her after a moment. “Maybe it is not the same danger you are more familiar with, but it is still a threat to the public.”

Eponine gritted her teeth at this condescending question. “I don’t think I have anything material to say, Inspector Javert.”

The inspector gave her a cold look. “Then our talk is at an end, Miss Thenardier. I had expected that a woman of your situation would be more prudent. My apologies for the inconvenience.”

It was all that Eponine could do not to roll her eyes as she walked out of the room. She bit her lip when she passed by Combeferre as he was being called in for his own questioning; chances were that he would also be given the same hints to cooperate with the police. ‘ _That inspector will have more luck getting money out of a locked safe,’_ she thought as she went back to the room where Enjolras was most probably asleep.

When she entered she saw Enjolras lying on his back with his eyes seemingly narrowed in deep thought. Were it not for the shadows under his eyes and his slight pallor, he might have had the demeanour of a captain planning for battle. “You should be asleep. Are you in much pain?” she greeted.

He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “It is bearable.”

“Were you able to find out anything about your friends?” she asked in a whisper. 

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” Enjolras replied tersely. His eyes were serious and keen when he met her gaze. “I made it quite clear to the inspector that you were not responsible for that would be assassin’s death.”

“I hope the investigators believe _you_ ,” she said as she sat down next to the gurney. Had it not been for the surrounding circumstances of uprising and murder, she might have found the situation almost laughable. ‘ _Me, caring for a dissident,’_ she thought, unable to resist snorting at this. She saw Enjolras’ eyebrows shoot up at this sound, but somehow this only made her laugh more such that she had to muffle her giggling with the sleeve of her scrubs. “I’m sorry. It’s just a funny thought,” she said when she finally calmed down.

“Fitting for these times,” Enjolras deadpanned, but the upward quirk of his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Whatever keeps one sane,” Eponine said as she sat back more easily. “You’ll still have to take it easy once you’re discharged. It takes time to recover from having that many wounds.”

“I still have to do what I must,” he replied.

“How?” she asked. Every image of him that she had seen before on the news was of him tall, blazing and confident in the halls of power as he went into one debate after another. Even his current state did not do much to diminish this fire.  ‘ _He’s not the sort who’d be content to hide behind a sobriquet or to live in the quiet of a safe house,’_ she realized.

“The first step will be to reach some people and recoup, as early as tomorrow,” he said at length.

“Visitors?” she murmured.

He nodded. “What they say will help determine the next move.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a workaholic,” she quipped.

He raised an eyebrow, almost as if to counter her on this point. “You should get some rest in the call room. I’ll be fine till Combeferre gets back.”

She shook her head. “He has patients too,” she reminded Enjolras. ‘ _I can’t leave him alone where anyone could get to him again,’_ she decided as she curled up in the chair. For a long time they were silent, letting the occasional murmur of the police agents conversing outside and the clatter of passing gurneys punctuate this almost comfortable sort of quiet.

The first pale rays of dawn were beginning to peek over the tops of the buildings by the time Eponine saw Enjolras yawn and shut his eyes. “That’s enough of thinking. You need to rest,” she said as she carefully caught his hand before it could dangle off the bed.

Enjolras glanced at her callused fingers clasping his wrist. “It will become clearer in the morning. Good morning, Dr. Thenardier.”

Eponine smiled, deciding to believe if only for a little moment in the hope within his words. “You too, Enjolras.”


	6. The War Room

****

**Chapter 6: The War Room**

The last thing that Enjolras heard before completely drifting off to sleep had been Eponine’s soft snoring from the chair next to the bed. It seemed like only a second had passed before this was replaced by the slightly more unwelcome sound of low snickering next to his left ear. “Don’t even _think_ about it Grantaire!” he snapped as he opened his eyes.

The pug-faced man standing by the bed chortled and tossed aside the tricolor streamer he’d been dangling near Enjolras’ face. “Rise and shine Chief! How are you feeling?”

Enjolras grimaced as he first took in the sight of his perpetually scruffy friend, and then their surroundings. He found that he was back in a proper bed, but in a completely different room from those he had been in earlier. Over here the window was to his right as opposed to his left, and the room was furnished with a pair of hard plastic seats next to a card table instead of a single cushy armchair and a table. A television was mounted on the far wall, but Enjolras suspected that the gadget was still as good as useless. ‘ _I must have been completely out of it if I didn’t even notice arriving here,’_ he mused, feeling a discomfited shudder course through his body. Not surprisingly, Eponine was nowhere in sight; Enjolras figured that she was off doing another surgery or perhaps making rounds.

At least he hadn’t woken up completely alone. “Who are you with?” he asked Grantaire.

“I rode with Jehan. He’s just getting something to eat,” Grantaire replied, indicating the two motorcycle helmets on one of the chairs. “You missed quite an interesting night,” he said with a crooked grin. 

“I don’t need to hear of your drunken escapades at this hour,” Enjolras muttered.

“You’re an ingrate, Enjolras,” Grantaire said dramatically. “All night spent jogging between the city hall and the first aid stations---“

“The city hall? What were you doing there?”

“Our side took control of it just after midnight.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “Our side?”

“Your minions.”

“Be serious.”

 “Capital R, I couldn’t find any good coffee, so I hope an energy drink will do—“ another cheery voice greeted from the doorway of the room. A gangly figure dressed in a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt and baggy cargo pants entered the room. “Good morning Enjolras!”

“Hello Jehan,” Enjolras said more amiably to the poet. “Could you please give me some _proper_ news?”

“He doesn’t believe we took the city hall,” Grantaire deadpanned as he caught a bottle filled with a fizzy bright green liquid.

“It wasn’t so much a takeover as a handover. The protests from all over the city converged on the city hall and central plaza last night, and the night security was only too happy to give up the place. That’s one of our new bases of operations now,” Jehan explained as he let his long hair out of its ponytail. He laughed as he let Grantaire scratch the top of his head for a moment. “Are you feeling better?” he asked Enjolras a little more cheerfully.

“Happy to be alive,” Enjolras replied. He was not sure if they already knew of the attack on his hospital room, but he decided to save the retelling for when more of their friends were present. “Were there many casualties?”

“None at the city hall protest. Over all, we don’t know since there are some fires over downtown,” Jehan said in what was meant to be a stage whisper. “Everything is coming in slow because of the communications blackout.”

Grantaire let out a noisy belch before saluting to Courfeyrac and Bahorel. The former seemed to have gotten through the night uninjured, but the latter had his right arm in a sling. “Someone should tell the doc to prescribe a chill pill for him,” he said.

Courfeyrac could barely hold back his laughter. “I think she’s got another remedy in mind for him. Nice to see you awake, Enjolras. You were out like a light when Nurse Hucheloup wheeled you in here.”

“How was your coffee break?” Enjolras asked them mildly.

“Never got it. I wore my latte instead of drinking it,” Bahorel replied, indicating the striped blue t-shirt he had borrowed from Combeferre. “Our four sparring partners were sent home right away.”

“Every floor was attacked. At least one patient was killed,” Courfeyrac said more seriously.

“Wait, someone tried to attack this hospital?” Jehan asked.

Courfeyrac and Bahorel nodded. “A search attempt first, and then a series of assaults, just after midnight,” Courfeyrac explained.

Grantaire scoffed audibly. “An inside job.  So much for doing the noble thing in times like these; you can’t even trust the healthcare profession.”

“No. There was probably intimidation or threats involved.” Bahorel pointed out just as the door creaked. “Who’s there?” he asked loudly.

“Easy there guys, it’s just us,” a slightly cracked voice called as the door swung open to admit a wiry man whose black hair was covered by a red bandana. Another large handkerchief was wrapped around the knuckles of his right hand. Trailing him was a taller fellow with wispy, thinning brown hair and a pair of livid bruises forming around his green eyes. Both of these men were covered in neon pain stains.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow concernedly at these newcomers. “Feuilly, did you and Bossuet have to fight your way to this place?”

“This is an identifying mark at the protests,” Feuilly said proudly as he held up his wrapped hand. “Too many _agents provocateurs_. Bossuet decked one last night.”

“That’s for the left. The right was this morning, versus a plainclothes cop,” Bossuet explained as he gestured to the bruises around his eyes. “Your selfie is all over the city, Enjolras. Pretty much blew the cover up out of the water.”

“What cover-up?” Enjolras asked worriedly.

“Until you got that selfie and the hash tag out, the military had already told the local presses that you’d left town,” Jehan said.

“The hash tag worked just long enough for people to get the word out and print everyone’s photos and selfies before all the Internet providers here went down,” Feuilly explained. “Instead of websites, we now have actual walls that will stay till the detainees are released,” he added.

Bossuet grinned as he brought out a camera from his pocket and showed a photo of a concrete wall downtown with the words, ‘ _They are alive!’_ alongside quickly done profiles of Enjolras as well as some of the detainees at the camp. “All in fifteen minutes’ work!”

Enjolras managed a smile as he handed the camera back to Bossuet. “All of this and nothing is back online yet?”

“Rumor has it that either government TV or radio might be back up today,” Jehan said. “No foreign news outfits have been given any info yet.”

“That can easily be bypassed,” Enjolras remarked. He looked at his friends keenly. “There are correspondents in the city, aren’t there?”

“Don’t tell Chetta and Joly just yet, but there’s one at our apartment,” Bossuet said. “That’s why I had to evict the plainclothes neighbor.”

“There was also a correspondent at the gig last night,” Jehan replied. “He asked for a comment but the stage manager made sure to hide him in the tech room when the police suddenly arrived.”

“He’ll get that comment, as soon as he can arrive here,” Enjolras said.

Feuilly looked warily at Enjolras’ bandages, which couldn’t be hidden under his hospital gown. “Are you sure about this? The moment the military gets wind of this, you might be a dead man.”

“I would be now if not for Combeferre and Dr. Thenardier,” Enjolras pointed out.

“Thenardier...wait, that’s the only girl on the trauma surgery directory here. I read a news story on the department once, and she was said to be very promising,” Grantaire chimed in. He grinned wolfishly at Enjolras. “You lucky bastard.”

Before Enjolras could make a retort, the hospital room door swung open and Eponine strode in with a cup of coffee in one hand, a chart in the other, and a green stethoscope draped around her neck.  With her was the head nurse, Mrs. Hucheloup, who was carrying a tray loaded with bandages and antiseptic. Eponine paused and smirked as she took in the sight of the crowd around her patient’s bed. “The sign says Visiting Hours, not War Council Hours."

‘ _Well played, Doctor,’_ Enjolras thought as he managed to sit up while Courfeyrac introduced the rest of their friends. It was somewhat heartening to see that she didn’t appear rattled despite the previous night’s events. He noticed now that the surgeon was wearing a dark green blouse with slacks, and a white coat over the entire ensemble. “You’re not operating on anyone today?” he asked.

Eponine shook her head as she set down her drink and the chart on the card table. “I do have breaks after pulling overtime. “

“Have you gotten in touch with your siblings yet?”

“Not a word, not a peep,” the doctor said grimly. She looked at Enjolras for a moment and nodded. “You’re looking much better. Good thing you finally got some rest.”

“Where are Combeferre, Joly, and Chetta?” Feuilly asked.

“Combeferre is signing out a patient, Joly has a meeting, and Chetta is at the delivery room,” Eponine replied. “Could you boys please stand aside for a little bit? I have to check and change his bandages.”

Enjolras managed to keep a straight face as his friends quickly retreated to the opposite end of the room, but he found himself looking away and shutting his eyes as soon as he first heard that distinct ripping sound of tape being yanked away from the gauze dressings. He hissed at the coolness of air suddenly hitting his skin even as he heard Eponine hum as if she approved what she saw. “How is it?” he asked, still not daring to open his eyes.

“Looks like you’ll heal up nicely. You’ll still have some impressive scars though,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“More reason to go around shirtless,” Grantaire snickered from across the room.

If Enjolras had his eyes open, he might have seen Eponine stick out her tongue at this jibe. “No new pains anywhere?” she asked.

He shook his head. “When can I start eating again or drinking again?”

“That depends,” she replied.

“It depends on what?” he asked, now daring to open his eyes. He winced at the sight that greeted him: there was a long horizontal line of stitches just under his right ribs, and a vertical line on the left side of his abdomen. There was also a quickly drying wound over his left ribs, where a bullet had just managed to inflict a glancing injury. His eyes widened as he saw Eponine rubbing her stethoscope between her gloved hands. “What are you doing?”

“Finding the answer to your question,” Eponine replied before putting the diaphragm of the stethoscope near his navel.

“Are you checking if his guts are awake or something?” Bahorel kidded.

Eponine signalled for everyone to be quiet before finally nodding and lifting the stethoscope away. “Yes, actually. So far, so good. Sips of water first.”

“Careful Doc, you might also accidentally wake up his DNA rifle!” Grantaire catcalled.

Enjolras felt the blood rushing to his face, more so when Eponine and the rest of the visitors began laughing uncontrollably. “Shut up, Grantaire!”

“I thought I heard everything already, but that one is for the record books,” Eponine finally gasped as she used her sleeve to wipe away tears of mirth from her face. “Do you spend time babysitting him or something?” she asked Enjolras.

“As my unpaid sideline,” Enjolras said with a smirk. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Eponine and Mrs. Hucheloup begin to place fresh gauze on his wounds. “Do I get to keep the bullets?”

“Yeah. Consider those your souvenirs,” she said. She finished bandaging his wounds before she spoke again. “Did they tell you how messed up it is outside the hospital now?” she asked.

“Some of it. About the incident---“ he began.

Eponine shook her head again. “At the very least I have to make an explanation to the hospital administration, even if no one formally files charges,” she whispered tersely.

‘ _If that is the case, what is the worst that can happen?’_ Enjolras wondered, but judging from the tension in Eponine’s now clenched fist, he was not sure he would like the answer. As he covered himself up again with his hospital gown he heard some footsteps, shouting, and the crackle of static from the nurse’s station up the hall.

“What are those kids up to now?” Mrs. Hucheloup huffed before setting down the tray now piled high with soiled bandages. She threw the door open, shouted something, and then sighed deeply. “Radio is back on, but just one station,” he said.

“Can they turn up the volume, please?” Enjolras asked. He gritted his teeth as he heard the brassy tune that signalled the beginning of the hourly news commentary. ‘ _More of a propaganda reel, and nothing new to anyone,’_ he thought as he gripped the bed sheet.

In a few minutes a crackly monotone came from up the hall: ‘ _The Palace strongly condemns the unlawful elements responsible for the attack at the Place Saint-Michel and the growing unrest in the city. We strongly advise citizens to refrain from engaging in acts of violence and vandalism, and to cooperate with our law enforcement---‘_

“What, cooperation at the end of a truncheon?” Feuilly muttered before Courfeyrac put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

‘— _rest assured that the individuals responsible will be justly dealt with, and that peace and order will be restored as soon as possible,’_ the announcer continued.

“Rest assured, we will be seeing more civic participation in the streets within the hour,” Bossuet said, making a perfect imitation of the announcer.

Eponine scowled as she looked up from writing instructions in the chart. “I pity the shift today then.”

“You and Dr. Combeferre are off today?” Mrs. Hucheloup asked. “Who’ll be in charge?”

“I’m endorsing my cases to Dr. Nerval; he’s the fellow on deck today,” Eponine said. “Please try not to piss him off,” she added, directing this to Enjolras.

“I’ll act within reason,” Enjolras retorted, earning him a glare from the woman.

Just then, more footsteps came from outside, and an orderly burst in, followed by Navet. “Dr. Thenardier! We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” the orderly gasped as he clutched at a stitch at his side. “You’re needed at the ER.”

Eponine put down the chart. “What’s happened?”

Navet cringed. “Are you listed as the next of kin of Azelma Louise Thenardier?”

Eponine paled and gripped the table. “Yes. What’s going on? What’s happened to my sister?”


	7. Heroes and Heroines

****

**Chapter 7: Heroes and Heroines**

By all rights it should only have taken at most three minutes to go from Enjolras’ room on the west wing of the sixth floor to the emergency room on the ground floor of the central building. All the same Eponine still felt as if she was ambling through glue. ‘ _I told Zelma and Gav to stay at home! What happened to them there?’_ she asked herself over and over again as she tried to keep up with Navet and the orderly. She tried to imagine what could have gotten to her siblings: a fire, stray bullets, an explosion, or even perhaps an attempt at arrest, but without any news about the goings-on downtown, she could hardly come up with any picture.

“Who brought my sister in?” she asked Navet as they stepped in the elevator.

“Your brother and a lady, Mrs. Fauchelevent,” Navet replied. “She found them and she supposedly recognized your sister?”

Eponine managed a nod, not knowing anymore what to say to this twist of fate. ‘ _Of all people it had to be perfect Cosette’s mother to find them,’_ she thought bitterly as the elevator doors opened. She saw some men carrying cameras and a tripod into another elevator, but before she could inquire about this, a child’s ear-splitting shriek rent the air. The very sound was enough to make Eponine’s gut twist while Navet went deathly pale. ‘ _She wasn’t the only one,’_ Eponine realized as she ran the rest of the way to the ER. She gasped as she pushed the door open and was met with the reek of scorched flesh and hair mingled with the sharpness of disinfectant. The place was a jumble of carts, screens, gurneys, and people darting from one place to another or yelling for supplies.  At the far end of the room, Mabeuf was leaning on a cane while talking with a tall woman whose blonde hair was held back by a frayed scarf, and had soot and bloodstains all over her white blouse and long floral skirt.

In the middle of this confusion Eponine finally caught sight of a fair-haired young man darting into a curtained off corner. “Gav! What’s going on?” she called, trying not to choke on the words.

Gavroche was pale as he spun around to see who’d shouted to him. He had scratches all over his face and his left arm was one massive bruise from elbow to wrist. “Ponine! It’s really bad, we need you here,” he said.

“I know,” Eponine replied as she hurried into the screened off cubicle. She swallowed hard at the sight of her sister immobilized on a gurney, her dark eyes wide and darting about helplessly. “Zel, I’m here,” she said as she clasped the tip of her sister’s right pinkie, which was the only part she could dare to reach without disturbing all the tubes and monitors hooked up to her.

It took a full second for Azelma’s dazed gaze to meet Eponine’s. “It hurts,” she murmured.

“I know, I know,” Eponine said. She quietly took stock of the situation: Azelma had a stiff collar around her neck, her face and arms were covered with cuts, and her right knee was elevated and swelling up. Although the rest of her was covered with a blanket, it was clear from her pallor and how she was grimacing that she was in some pain from injuries to her midsection. Eponine caught sight of something dark and glistening on her sister’s sleeve and picked it up. “Why were you guys driving?” she demanded as she held up the bit of tinted glass.

“Some of Zelma’s kids were hiding in our building,” Gavroche explained, making a circle with his finger to indicate some of the other patients in the ER. “There was a fire downstairs and we had to take some of them here.”

Eponine nodded, already fearing where this tale was going. “Then?”

“There were tanks on the road,” Gavroche said. “They were about to shoot at something, we tried to get out of the way but the car got rammed, and we lost control.”

“Not rammed, shot at,” a voice said from the entrance to the cubicle. “It was a high calibre gun that got you guys.”

Eponine nodded to the woman standing there. “How did you find them, Ma’am Fantine?” she asked. She almost cringed on realizing what she had called the lady. ‘ _I really should remember I’m not in undergrad and she’s no longer my clinical instructor.’_

Fantine Fauchelevent retied the blue scarf around her head. “I was doing relief ops. Someone blew up the water line downtown.”

“You should have seen her argue with the guards at the blockade,” Gavroche chimed in, managing now a more admiring grin.

“It took too long,” Fantine said grimly before stepping aside to let a technician wheel in an ultrasound machine. “Shouldn’t that have been done earlier?”

‘ _Triage_ ,’ Eponine thought. Considering that there were so many young patients with more immediately life threatening injuries, it was no surprising that Azelma had been put at least on second priority. As unfair as it seemed, Eponine knew better than to protest. ‘ _You might have had to do the same too if you were someone else and she wasn’t your sister,’_ she reminded herself bitterly.

The resident on duty at the ER whistled cheerily at Eponine. “Sorry to catch you on your off day, Dr. Thenardier. How’s your favourite patient?” he asked as he started up the ultrasound machine.

“On the mend,” Eponine replied tersely as she tightened her grip on Azelma’s finger. ‘ _Yesterday Enjolras was at the top of my list of my least favourite persons, today he’s somewhere in third place,’_ she decided. First place was reserved for whoever had hurt her siblings and the second place for Javert.

“Okay Miss Thenardier, we’re just going to take a quick look if you may need surgery for internal injuries,” the resident said to Azelma as he put some gel on her stomach. “It will only take a minute.”

“Wow cool! I didn’t know you could do that,” Gavroche said as he peered at the display on the ultrasound machine. “Is that how everyone looks from the inside?”

“Gav, let him do his work,” Eponine said tersely. She gritted her teeth as she watched the black and white images on the screen; they were as normal as anything she read about but there was still that slight hint of doubt at the back of her mind. “She needs a CT scan,” she told the resident.

The resident looked confusedly at her. “Nothing is abnormal on the ultrasound.”

“The last thing anyone needs is a false negative. Please just do it,” Eponine hissed.

The resident scowled as he turned off the ultrasound machine.  “Someone is being bossy,” he muttered.

“I don’t care if this isn’t my department, but that’s my _sister_ you’re treating!” Eponine retorted. She met Azelma’s alarmed eyes. “Gav will see to some papers and I have to talk to someone. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

“You promise?” Azelma whispered.

“Yeah. I’ll be there,” Eponine said, squeezing her finger before letting the orderlies wheel her sister out to the CT scan room down the hall.

“Do you still need anything?” Fantine asked concernedly.

“I’ll let you know. Thank you,” Eponine managed to say. She could feel her head spinning, almost as it did on dark nights when she and her siblings sought refuge in a cabinet from either rain or fists. ‘ _There’s only one person I’d trust with Azelma’s life now,’_ she thought as she raced up to the surgery call room. Not surprisingly the place was deserted, but she found a memo tacked to her side of the corkboard. ‘ _Administrative meeting tomorrow concerning the incident at room 642,’_ she read silently as she clenched her fists. She did not even have to ask if Javert had a hand in this turn of events; the security report of the hospital would be enough to have her summoned for an investigation. It was all she could do not to scream as she read through the rest of the memo.  Was she going to be in danger of losing her sister and her job all in the same week?

After a moment she ripped the memo off the corkboard and stuffed it into her locker. From here she ran to the sixth floor, hoping against all hope to catch Combeferre there before he left for home. She nearly cried out with relief on seeing him exiting Enjolras’ hospital room. “Combeferre, I have a very, very big favor to ask of you,” she said as she ran to him.

“The others told me already,” Combeferre replied calmly. “Where is Azelma now?”

“At the CT scan. I don’t care, I know it costs a bit on top of everything else but I’m not taking any chances,” Eponine rambled. She had to pause to catch her breath as well as to take in the sight of her friend’s haggard face. “Are you sure? It’s supposed to be your off day too.”

“You saved my brother from certain death, more than once,” Combeferre said, gesturing to the room he had just left. “It’s the very least I can do.”

“I can scrub in too, just to help,” Eponine offered.

Combeferre shook his head. “I wish you could, but you’re already facing questions from the admin. You don’t need any more strikes on your record,” he said seriously. “I’ve got two residents helping me.”

“Thank you,” Eponine said as she clasped his arm. ‘ _I don’t care what he says about it, but I’ll make it up to him one of these days,’_ she promised as she watched him walk quickly to the elevator. She realized now that there were voices in Enjolras’ room and she peeked in to see that he was sitting up in bed, talking to some men and women holding out recorders and cameras. ‘ _Why the hell is he conducting interviews?’_ she thought, readying herself to barge in and confront her patient.

“Eponine!” a voice called happily to her. She turned to see Marius step out of the hospital room, flushed in the face as he tried to hang on to a pile of CDs of brain scans and EEGs. “I was able to contact Cosette last night!”

Eponine sighed weakly. “Good for you. Is she okay?”

“I think so, or at least she was before the cell sites jammed up,” Marius said as he wiped his face. “Do you know where she lives?”

Eponine’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Do you know her address? I need to know that she’s okay and safe,” Marius pressed on as he caught her arm. “Please, tell me Eponine!”

“Is that all you can care about now?” Eponine snapped. “There are people dying out there in the streets, it’s a hellhole once you step outside, and all you’re concerned about is your love life and some girl you’ve only talked to once--”

“It’s not that way, I just need to know—“

“How can you be so damned oblivious to everything---“

“Fucking hell there, Pontmercy, knock it off!” Musichetta called as she strode out of the room, hands akimbo as she glared at Marius. “Don’t you know that her sister is injured _right now_?”

Marius paled as he let go of Eponine’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

Eponine took a deep breath even as she tried to ignore the hot feeling building up behind her eyes. ‘ _Don’t let him see you cry,’_ she told herself. In all her time in training, she could count on her two hands the times she had let Combeferre, Joly, and Musichetta see her tear up over a very bad test, a poor evaluation, or a moribund patient. Crying was not something she dared to do around her trainees like Navet and even more so with fellow colleagues like Marius. “You didn’t know. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t take it out on you,” she finally said to Marius. She felt doubly stricken on seeing his contrite look; after all who was she to judge if he was genuinely concerned about Cosette? “Her mom is downstairs. You can talk to her; she’s nice,” she added.

“What’s her mother doing here?” Marius asked.

“She’s the one who found my sister,” Eponine said in a level tone. “If you hurry, you can catch her.”

“Thank you Eponine,” Marius said. “And...I’m sorry.”

“Just go before she has to leave,” Eponine murmured. She bit her lip as she watched Marius hurry down the hall. “I can’t believe this. That was awful of me,” she murmured as she buried her face in her hands.

Musichetta wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “You’re tired, Ponine. You should get some sleep in the meantime.”

“But my sister---“

“There’s nothing you can do.”

Eponine nodded as she took a deep breath. “What the hell is Enjolras doing in there?” she whispered, gesturing to the room.

“Interviews to counteract the government press. The correspondents have been trying to get a hold of him since yesterday apparently,” Musichetta explained. “If you like, you can give a comment there, as his attending physician. I have a little makeup for those bags under your eyes.”

“Thanks but I don’t think I can face a camera or anything now,” Eponine said as she rubbed her eyes.

Musichetta smiled understandingly. “When you wake up, the offer still stands. Remember, the worse you feel---“

“—the better you have to look,” Eponine said, cracking a smile. “Please let me know if anyone needs anything, or if Combeferre has news.”

“Of course, of course. Now stop trying to be Superwoman and scoot!” Musichetta said.

‘ _I sometimes wish people didn’t want me to be,’_ Eponine thought before hurrying down to the CT scan room, only to hear that Azelma was already being prepped for surgery. She numbly made her way back upstairs, to the small waiting room outside the OR proper. _‘I should have been there. I should have helped them get out of the city or get to someplace safe,’_ she couldn’t help thinking despite knowing that there was actually little she could have done in such an emergency.

Gavroche was already in the waiting hour, kicking off his sneakers before he sprawled on a long sofa tucked in a corner. “Zelma and I were planning to do something special about that meatloaf before you came in,” he quipped.

Eponine laughed as she edged in next to him, keeping an arm around his shoulders before he could squirm away. It felt like yesterday that she was the big sister trying to comfort him when he cried, but now somehow she felt as if the roles were being reversed. “I’m sorry Gav. I should have gone home.”

“Aw, you wouldn’t have lasted on the streets with all that firepower. You’re fast but not supersonic, Ponine,” Gavroche said. “Besides, knowing you....you would have gone out to help those kids first before Zelma and I did.”

Eponine sighed, knowing that her brother read her all too well.  “How many of them?”

“Nine. Two are not in a good way,” Gavroche said morosely. “Heard you were the one who stitched up that congressman Enjolras?”

“Yeah. He’s kind of the reason I got stuck here,” Eponine admitted. ‘ _If it hadn’t been him, it would have been another patient,’_ she thought. Either way it seemed as if she had been fated to be caught in this storm. Then again, why was it so surprising, given that these calamities had always been part and parcel of her very existence?

Gavroche made a snorting noise. “If there’s someone who can face off versus those military folks, it’s him. Everyone is rooting for him.”

“What, you’re going to join his fan club upstairs?” Eponine asked as she leaned back in her seat. She could feel her head beginning to pound with exhaustion, forcing her to close her eyes. “I’m so tired, Gav. I don’t know what I can do anymore.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Ponine. Zelma is going to be OK,” Gavroche said.

Eponine forced herself to nod before finally falling into a much needed, dreamless sleep. It felt like only a few minutes had passed till she felt someone shaking her. “Eponine, wake up!”

She groaned and opened her eyes in time to see Gavroche standing by, holding up a cup of coffee. “What’s going on?”

“Knew that would get you up,” Gavroche said. “Combeferre just came by. Azelma is going to be OK. Said he never had an easier time of it.”

Eponine nearly sagged against the sofa with relief. “When can we see her?”

“In an hour, he said,” Gavroche said as he handed the coffee to her. “Well that’s me, but I guess since you’re a doc, you can go right in.”

Eponine cracked a smile before she took a sip of the drink. The warmth was comforting and she was able to breathe more easily after a few gulps. “What time is it? It must be after lunch.”

“Actually it’s 12:30, and there’s pizza on the sixth floor,” Gavroche said. “That big fellow Bahorel ordered in. There’s some left for you and Combeferre. Enjolras insisted on it.”

“That’s nice of him,” Eponine said. “Anyway I’ll go on and see Zelma---“

“Not so fast, Miss Thenardier,” a voice said from the side. The two siblings turned to see Javert in the hall, glaring at them grimly. “I have some questions you need to answer.”

Eponine looked him over and was now silently thankful that he hadn’t confronted her any earlier when she was sleepless. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so quickly, Inspector.”

“It’s a matter of urgency,” Javert said in a clipped tone.

“My sister was hurt, and she just got out of the operation. I have to meet her in the recovery room.”

“That is not necessary, I believe. She is in good hands,” Javert snapped.

Eponine eyed him keenly before taking another sip of her coffee. “I think I need to speak to my lawyer first, before we continue.”

“Ponine?” Gavroche asked, looking at her worriedly. “What’s going on?”

“Didn’t she tell you? Your sister is a suspect for a murder,” Javert sneered.

“Exactly why I’m getting legal representation first,” Eponine said. “My lawyer is up on the sixth floor by the way.”

Javert nodded curtly. “Very well then, Miss Thenardier. Lead the way.”                

 “Dr. Thenardier,” Eponine corrected as she walked ahead of them to the elevator. Surely someone in that crowd she was headed to was a lawyer, or at least knew someone who would be up for the job.


	8. Battle Joined

****

**Chapter 8: Battle Joined**

“There, that’s the last of them.”

Enjolras heaved a deep sigh of relief as he watched Bahorel show out the last of the departing correspondents. He licked his cracked lips and then took a cautious sip of water to soothe his now parched throat. “This is going to work. I’m sure of it,” he said as soon as the door was shut.

Feuilly grinned as he leapt down from his perch on the windowsill. “If all fails, go international. There’s nothing quite like outside pressure to get the government to start thinking.”

“ _This_ particular government, and at least for today,” Bossuet said while dusting pizza crumbs off his pants. “If things progress such that a junta is put up, nothing can budge that.”

“Which is one of the scenarios we are trying to avert,” Enjolras pointed out. He gritted his teeth as he thought back on the recently concluded interview. While it was a great step to speak out against the violence and impunity of the past few days, it still grated on his mind that the usual communication channels were still closed off to the majority of the city’s denizens. ‘ _According to the correspondents, everyone is still looking for everyone, and there is no real organized effort yet to really face up against the Palace,’_ he reflected. It was clear that the authorities were hoping that by keeping everyone incommunicado, not only would the opposition collapse, but chaos would soon take over that would only reinforce the regime’s motive to implement iron-fisted measures.

In the meantime Courfeyrac had opened a huge bag of potato chips and was passing it around the group, I think you might have broken Marius back there,” he said to the obstetrician who was seated on the table and letting Joly rub her feet.

“He’ll live,” Musichetta replied, taking care to keep her voice low so as not to disturb Combeferre, who was passed out in one of the room’s few chairs. “He means well and does well, but he’s not what Eponine needs at the moment.”

“But he’s what she wants,” Jehan reminded her. “That’s hard to deal with.”

“I’m not sure that what she wants either,” Musichetta said before shutting her eyes and letting out a sigh of enjoyment. “Patrice, have you been studying reflexology?”

Joly turned bright red. “One of the interns left a book lying around.”

“Borrow it. I promise, I’ll make sure you won’t regret it,” Musichetta told him.

“I thought you docs were sceptical of these things,” Enjolras remarked.

“In some scenarios, but it never hurts to have a full arsenal,” Joly replied as he began tracing firm circles around Musichetta’s heel.

Just then the door swung open and Eponine strode in, tying back her long hair with a rubber band. “I need a lawyer, stat,” she said breathlessly.

“Enjolras, did you hear that?” Grantaire snickered. “Operative word being _need_ \---“

Enjolras glared at him before looking to Eponine. He had half expected not to see her for a few more hours, and if so most likely in a haggard state thanks to her sister’s condition. Surprisingly, the woman standing before him was cool, confident, and obviously on the warpath. “Is this for representation or simply for legal advice?” he asked.

“The first one,” Eponine replied as she set down her cup of coffee.

“I’ll do the honors,” Courfeyrac chimed in gallantly as he got to his feet. “Make it up to her some other time,” he said in an undertone to Enjolras.

Enjolras nodded understandingly as he took another sip of water. While he was more than qualified to stand as her legal counsel, it was not advisable given the present circumstances. ‘ _It’s not a permissible form of mutualism,’_ he mused just as two more people walked into the room. “Hello Gavroche. Good afternoon Inspector Javert,” he greeted.

Gavroche waved and made a beeline for the bag of potato chips while Javert stood stiffly by the door. “I heard that Miss Thenardier’s lawyer is in this room?” the policeman said, eyeing Enjolras suspiciously for a moment.

“That would be me,” Courfeyrac said gamely. “The name is Attorney Courfeyrac, by the way,” he said as he reached out to shake Javert’s hand.

“Do you know that you yourself may soon be facing charges of sedition?” Javert asked him curtly.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s gone through so much trouble,” Courfeyrac replied. “Only this is a little more than usual.”

Eponine crossed her arms. “It doesn’t mean I can’t have him represent me,” she said to Javert. “So I’m accused of making a corpse out of who?”

“Claude Beauchamp, alias Claquesous. I’m sure the sobriquet is familiar to you,” Javert said. “52 years old, last seen alive last night at the Central Bridge before he was identified as being in Room 642 earlier this morning.”

Eponine’s jaw dropped for a moment before she quickly regained her composure. “The charge was _murder_? When you called me in for questioning the charge was either homicide or reckless imprudence resulting to it---you said it, not me.”

Javert stared at her. “That was for questioning, you are now going to be under arrest.”

“On a wrong charge?”

“Excuse me?”

“What happened was not premeditated, well at least my manhandling him wasn’t. I didn’t plan to tackle him,” Eponine said before sipping her coffee again.”That makes a big difference between murder and simply killing someone. Get your damn warrant straight.” 

It was all that Enjolras could do to keep a straight face, more so when he saw that Courfeyrac, Joly, Musichetta, Bahorel, Grantaire, and Gavroche were trying and already failing to hold in their laughter. ‘ _She knows her jurisprudence,’_ he realized as he sat up. While he was aware that all medical professionals were required to have some knowledge of this subject, at least in relation to their work, he had only met a few other doctors aside from Combeferre who could confidently quote it.

In the meantime Javert was pacing the room. “So you were not in conspiracy with your patient to terminate the life of Mr. Beauchamp?”

“No. Why would I conspire with him?” Eponine said, gesturing to Enjolras.

“Eponine, you do not need to explain yourself,” Courfeyrac cut in. “Inspector, this is absurd. I can vouch that my client and Mr. Enjolras have never met prior to this incident, and that during this hospital stay it was impossible for them to have had a conspiracy of this sort.”

Javert scoffed. “How can you establish the latter fact?” He shook his head when he saw Courfeyrac pause for a moment. “Unless you were with them for exactly every moment of this hospital stay, you cannot be completely certain.”

“Is there any material evidence?” Courfeyrac demanded.

“Your client’s fingerprints are all over the corpse,” Javert sneered.  “Are you sure you want him as your legal counsel, Miss Thenardier?” he asked Eponine.

“Yes, as there are few people willing to stand up to the likes of your bosses,” Eponine replied.  “And once again, it’s Dr. Thenardier to you.”

“You actually trust these boys?” Javert laughed.

“Not boys. Men.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at the inspector. “Are her fingerprints your only reason for establishing probable cause?” he asked. “She did it in self-defense.”

“That would be your excuse,” Javert muttered.

“What about the coroner’s report? I doubt an autopsy could be performed so quickly given the present state of affairs,” Enjolras asked, remembering what Combeferre had said earlier that day about forensic evidence being necessary to clear Eponine’s name.

“It is not available yet, and besides it is not necessary for the filing of charges,” Javert retorted.

‘ _If he brings Eponine out of the hospital, she’s never going to emerge again elsewhere,’_ Enjolras realized. Perhaps this also dawned on Eponine too, since she bit her lip as if she was trying to collect herself. “I do not believe that there really are any charges. You are only here under some pretence of formality when in reality you are attempting to implement Ordinance 95, but that will not do since Dr. Thenardier is clearly _not_ in detention at the moment,” he said. “For a criminal arrest for another offense, a warrant is still necessary.”

“You are coming close to adding obstruction of justice to your list of potential charges, Mr. Enjolras,” Javert warned icily.

“If practicing my profession correctly means obstructing this regime’s particular brand of justice, then I have no qualms about it,” Enjolras pointed out.

“I do also have something to say to that,” Eponine chimed in, looking from Enjolras to Javert. “You sound biased in your questioning, and instead of trying to get the straight facts you are banking on your past impressions of me to imply that I _did_ break the law.”

“Your inclinations are none of my business,” Javert seethed.

“They are if they are the reason you’re trying to arrest me or insinuating that I should act against my patient,” Eponine said. “Which might I add is unethical especially in your line of work, Inspector.”

Javert’s lips twitched but before he could speak a beeping sound came from his pocket. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said before he brought out his phone and strode out of the hospital door.

For a moment everyone in the room was silent before Jehan suddenly let out an excited whoop as he sprang to his feet. “You know what that means? Our phones could be back online!”

‘ _Finally some progress,’_ Enjolras thought even as his friends all went for their respective phones to check or send messages. He caught sight of the relieved smile that crossed Eponine's face when she looked his way; for some reason this heartened him nearly as much as the fact that the blockade was seemingly over. He returned her bright grin before he looked to Combeferre, who was just blinking himself awake. “Combeferre, may I borrow your phone?”

Combeferre yawned before fishing in his coat pocket and then pushing his phone in Enjolras’ hand. “You’re lucky I backed up some of your phone book.”

“It will do,” Enjolras said as he began sending messages to some of the other leaders of the protest groups, just to inform them that he was alive and to inquire about the events outside the hospital. Thankfully he had also memorized the numbers of a few of his contacts, allowing him to rely less on the backed up phone book. ‘ _Let’s hope that the signals are also restored in other parts of the city,’_ he thought before he hid Combeferre’s phone under the blanket just as Javert returned to the room.

“The question of Beauchamp’s demise will require some further...investigation,” Javert told Eponine curtly but his wide eyed look was that of a man staggering under a startling revelation. “You will not be arrested today.”

“Investigation? By who?” Bahorel asked mockingly. “I don’t think you pigs would actually investigate one of your own!”

Javert glared at him. “I should remind you, not everyone on the police force condones such underhanded actions like breaking in, assassination, or detention. Those who commit those acts...well they are not part of the force as far as I am concerned.”

‘ _Does Gisquet agree with that?’_ Enjolras wondered, seeing that Javert was speaking in earnest. Regardless of his politics or how he viewed Eponine’s part in the matter, it was clear that he was disturbed by the fact that someone had masterminded an assassination attempt. “You should check back with your superiors,” he remarked.

Javert glared at him. “You do not need to remind me, Mr. Enjolras,” he said. He nodded to Eponine. “I hope your sister recovers. I am sorry for taking up too much of your time,” he said.

“I hope you don’t take any more. Good day to you,” Eponine replied as she stepped aside to let the troubled inspector leave the room. “The cheek of him!” she hissed.

“Watch out, he might come barrelling back in here,” Musichetta warned.

Eponine shrugged. “He’s always thought I was a mouthy kid.”

“Always?” Enjolras asked querulously. Now Javert’s iciness towards the doctor made a little more sense. “Whether he’s met you or not before, that doesn’t excuse him from acting professionally.”

“True,” Eponine said, managing a smile at him.” If anyone needs me, I’ll be with Azelma at the recovery room. I’ll tell you guys when you and Gavroche can visit,” she told the rest of the group before she swiftly quit the room.

Gavroche smirked at Enjolras. “You really should have been my sister’s lawyer. Sorry Courfeyrac.”

“No harm done,” the lawyer said, giving Enjolras an amiable look. “Anyway everyone knows I’m just filling in because Enjolras insists on being proper and discussing things. If it was up to me, I’d simply tell the inspector to get lost, end of negotiation.”

“If only it were that easy,” Enjolras remarked amid everyone’s laughter. He looked down at Combeferre’s phone, which was now buzzing with one new message after another. He smiled on seeing that almost all of these were from the people he’d just contacted, and they were clamouring to meet with him as soon as he was ready. However there was one thing he wanted to be sure of before returning to the fight. “Combeferre, who is in charge of the hospital audit committee?” he asked.

“Dr. Lamarque. You’ve met him before,” Combeferre replied.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said before logging on to begin composing an email. 


	9. Reckoning in the Light

****

**Chapter 9: Reckoning In the Light**

“Ponine, you can’t stay here again! You have to go home some time!”

“I’ll go home later today and Gav can take his turn.”

Despite the fact that much of her face and body were swathed in bandages, Azelma still managed to adopt a petulant expression. “It’s going to be fine. I know the doctor who Combeferre did that endorsing thing to, and I feel much better anyway. You don’t need to fuss so much over me.”

“There’s something I need to take care of before I can take a break,” Eponine replied. ‘ _Such as finding out if I still have a job,’_ she thought as she carefully pulled her white coat over a dark blue blouse she’d borrowed from Musichetta, who lived nearer the hospital. In less than an hour she would have to stand before the hospital’s board of directors and explain her actions of two nights ago. She looked through her purse for some face powder and her lip balm, if only to better disguise the fact that she had been rather short on sleep for some days. ‘ _I can’t let the board see that I’m afraid,’_ she decided as she tied back her hair into a severe looking bun.

Azelma frowned at this sight before brightening up as Gavroche barged into the room. “Can you please tell her she ages ten years each time she does that?” she said.

“No, that would be a lie,” Gavroche replied.

Eponine snorted “Thanks Gav.”

“No actually, you don’t age ten, you age fifteen!” Gavroche quipped before quickly taking refuge behind Azelma’s hospital bed. “Hide me!”

“You’re not seven anymore Gav, face her yourself,” Azelma drawled.

Eponine rolled her eyes just before the hospital door creaked open and she turned to see Courfeyrac, Bossuet, and Grantaire. “What are you three doing here?” she asked. “I thought you’d be at the detention camps.”

“Feuilly and Bahorel are there now,” Grantaire explained.

“Oh? And what about you three?”

“We’re sharing these blessings---and standing watch,” Courfeyrac replied before tossing some chocolate over to the Thenardier siblings. He grinned wolfishly at Azelma. “I’m happy that bandage doesn’t cover your pretty eyes.”

Grantaire and Gavroche burst out laughing while Bossuet groaned. “Are you allowed to flirt with the sister of your client?” Bossuet finally said.

“Hey, hey, I’m just greeting, this doesn’t count as flirting in my book!” Courfeyrac said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Eponine made a slicing motion across her neck. “I warned you.”

“So he knows about my boxing?” Azelma asked gleefully.

“She told me that even before I learned your name,” Courfeyrac explained.

Eponine sighed deeply, seeing that there was no way she could deter this agreeable sort of collusion. She pocketed one of the chocolates, just in case she would need some form of chemical courage. “If you need anything, just call the nurse’s station. My phone is going to be on silent mode for a little bit.”

“So how is Enjolras?” Courfeyrac asked. “I heard you have him lined up for a few tests.”

“Just for follow-up purposes. Better safe than sorry,” Eponine said. “Jehan is accompanying him now.”

“Yeah, I saw them earlier. So will we see you at rounds later?” Grantaire asked her eagerly.

“If I’m still your friend’s attending physician,” Eponine said, hoping that her smile was still brave. She had to quit the room before Azelma could ask about this situation or the young men could mention anything about it. ‘ _I don’t want her to worry about me, or she might set herself back,’_ she thought as she headed to the surgery wing to check that the discharge papers for some of her other patients were already being processed. After this she went to the director’s office, all the while keeping her head low lest someone call out to her and ask about her patient, her sister, or even her pending case.

As she rounded a bend in the hallway she caught sight of a slight blonde woman seated outside a doctor’s office, reading through a week old newspaper. She was in a dainty amber shirtdress, with dark leggings and ballet flats. Eponine paused and swallowed hard, knowing that it would be rude to openly avoid this encounter. Nevertheless she could not bring herself to be the first to make greeting, and so she walked by briskly, prepared to give only the most cordial of nods.

The blonde woman looked around at the sound of Eponine’s footsteps and then tossed aside the broadsheet. “Eponine! Maman told me that you’re a surgeon here,” she greeted. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks Cosette,” Eponine said. She could not help but feel a frisson of envy as she looked at her former classmate. Even though it had been nearly nine years since their college graduation, Cosette Fauchelevent was still as fresh-faced and dainty as ever. ‘ _She doesn’t even look like someone who has to be at the beck and call of so many elderly patients,’_ Eponine noted, remembering now what Cosette’s daily work at the foundation entailed.

Cosette smiled brightly as she stepped towards Eponine. “Is Azelma going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Guess we owe your mom one,” Eponine replied.  She would have to think of how to repay Fantine’s kindness later. “It’s a good thing she was running relief ops, or no one would have taken Azelma to the hospital.”

“No, it’s a good thing your sister was around. Every one of those kids she was rescuing would have died if she hadn’t been there,” Cosette pointed out. “You’re real heroines.”

Eponine shrugged weakly. “Thanks I guess.”

Cosette nodded before looking down for a moment and wringing her hands. “I know this might be a little awkward, but I have to tell you that I talked to Marius yesterday,” she said as she looked at Eponine. “He _finally_ put two and two together.”

For a moment Eponine thought she would be angry or feel sick at the mention of Marius, but now she realized that she could only shake her head ruefully when his face came to mind. Besides, could she really lash out at Cosette given the present circumstances? “We kind of had an argument. It was horrible of me, and it was a bad time,” she said.

“No, no. I’m not here to ask for an apology,” Cosette said. “Eponine, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to get in the way,” she explained, clearly trying to keep her composure despite the blush rising to her face. “He’s a really nice guy, super smart, sweet—“

“He’s good for you,” Eponine finished as she finally managed to smile. The way Cosette’s eyes had lit up was almost an exact mirror of Marius’ own exuberance two nights ago at the cafeteria, and perhaps it was even deeper despite its being less ebullient. ‘ _Joly would say it’s the only contagion worth having,’_ she thought. Who was she to stand in its way?

Cosette’s brow furrowed as she went over Eponine’s words. “I thought you’d be angry.”

“In the end, he’s _your_ keeper,” Eponine replied. She smiled more widely, finding that this time she didn’t even have to make that much of an effort. “I’ll be fine, Cosette. I think that I’ve got a lot on my plate anyway nowadays.”

Cosette nodded understandingly. “Thank you Eponine. We really ought to catch up soon, maybe once things get a little less crazy?”

“That’s a good idea,” Eponine said. “Especially since I’d love to chat, but I have a very important meeting in a while. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“You will. Where is Azelma now?” Cosette asked.

“Fifth floor, Room 515,” Eponine replied. ‘ _Hopefully there’s some chocolate still left for her,’_ she thought as she walked ahead to the directors’ office while Cosette headed for the stairs. Perhaps that catching up would happen sooner than she thought.

In a minute she was standing outside a pair of heavy glass doors engraved with the insignia of Saint-Michel Hospital. ‘ _That’s one thing that hasn’t changed,’_ she thought as she unwrapped the chocolate she’d brought and popped it in her mouth. She had done the same thing on the morning when she’d first walked beyond these doors for her final interview as an applicant to the surgical residency. ‘ _I was twenty-five then, and I had more years than I had things or people to hang on to,’_ she realized as she tossed the wrapper into a waste bin.

She cast a glance towards the window nearest the door, where she had a perfect view of Saint-Michel square, the bridges leading downtown and home, and of course the rest of the sprawling city. Columns of gray smoke rose here and there, marking where fighting and chaos still raged. Yet this was not enough to cast a grim pall over the city, for the sky was still clear and the sun was shining, bathing the world in a pure, clean light. She could also see little red flags on some of the nearby buildings, and even moving along the bridges. Would this tide be stopped by tanks, gunfire, or fear? ‘ _Will it endure? Where is this going to?’_ she wondered.

Suddenly the glass doors swung open. “Dr. Thenardier, please come in. Dr. Lamarque and the rest of the board are waiting to see you,” a crone greeted.

Eponine nodded before looking at the woman’s nameplate. “Thank you Mrs. Veuvain.” She bit her lip as she took twelve steps towards an open door leading to a conference room. Inside, seated at a round table, were seven dignified men and women. All of them were dressed in white coats over long sleeved button-down shirts or smartly-cut dresses. She quietly sat down at the one empty seat. “Good morning,’ she greeted.

 Dr. Lamarque, a tall and amiably wrinkled figure, adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles before looking gravely at Eponine. “Thank you for joining us promptly, Dr. Thenardier. I understand you are very aware of the reason you have been called to this meeting. Could you please explain to us the entire story—beginning with the afternoon that Mr. Auguste Enjolras was admitted to the hospital.”

Eponine put her hands on the table and looked down as she tried to sort through the events of the past three days. She swallowed hard, only to end up wishing she hadn’t eaten that candy before entering the meeting. “I was in the vicinity of the emergency room when Mr. Enjolras was brought in. Dr. Combeferre recognized Mr. Enjolras, and I agreed to attend to his injuries since this was during our shift.”

“Did Mr. Enjolras personally request for you to act as his attending physician?” another physician asked pointedly.

“It was an emergency, and he was not in any position to request,” Eponine said. “As for his operation—“

“We have the medical abstract that Dr. Navet prepared,” Dr. Lamarque said. “The operation was a success, and then he awoke without complications---and then what happened?”

“I went downstairs, in time to see Dr. Mabeuf being attacked by a group that came to search the hospital. That was when I asked for Mr. Enjolras’ room assignment to be changed from that which was originally booked into the database. I didn’t have time to clear it and I’m sorry for the irregularity,” Eponine continued. She could feel the rest of the doctors practically glaring at her with displeasure, but she willed herself to raise her head and continue speaking even if she knew her next words were particularly damning. “I learned that I was also being told to spend the night at the hospital, so I made my rounds of my other patients, and Mr. Enjolras was the last I visited. I decided to help monitor him and allow the rest of the night shift to pay more attention to other patients on the floor. There were too many people going in and out of the room, and I believed this was an unnecessary disturbance.”

“You did this despite the fact that you were aware that your patient was not in critical condition and that round the clock monitoring was deemed, in your clinical judgment, to be unnecessary?” a third physician cut in.

“Admittedly I overstayed. I fell asleep reading,” Eponine explained. “I had been under the impression that his companions would return immediately from having a coffee break, but I did not know that they had already been accosted downstairs. When I woke up, a man had already entered the room and was pointing a gun at Mr. Enjolras. That was when I intervened.”

Dr. Lamarque held up a hand. “Thank you Dr. Thenardier for clarifying the matter,” he said before reaching for a sheet of paper on the tabletop. “I have here a copy of the coroner’s report on a certain Claude Beauchamp, identified as being the assailant of Room 642. He sustained contusions consistent with being tackled and held down by another human body, and it was your fingerprints that were found all over his body. He also exhibited post-mortem signs of having been poisoned with a new compound that effectively replicates the effects of being exposed to a massive dose of cyanide gas. The compound was originally sequestered in a capsule attached to his left lower second molar.”

‘ _Was that why he seemed to grind his teeth after spitting at me and looking at Enjolras?’_ she wondered silently. “I was not aware of this,” she said.

The second doctor who’d spoken up cleared his throat before looking keenly at Eponine. “Is it possible that in the struggle, you could have dealt some force to Mr. Beauchamp’s person that resulted in the capsule’s breakage and then his subsequent poisoning?” 

Eponine took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“However the temporal order of events suggests otherwise,” Dr. Lamarque said to his colleague before looking at Eponine. “While you may have exercised more force than was necessary in the situation---given that you were not alone in intervening to save Mr. Enjolras from immediate bodily danger, the evidence shows that Mr. Beauchamp was prepared to immediately end his own life in the event his mission failed. You and Dr. Combeferre clearly could not have done anything to prevent the success of this suicide. Therefore you have no criminal liability in this case, Dr. Thenardier.”

“What about administrative lapses?” the third doctor asked. “This is not the first time that your exceedingly hands-on approach with your patients has been brought to the attention of your superiors, Dr. Thenardier.”

“In this case, Dr. Thenardier was acting to protect not only her patient but also other staff members involved in this scenario,” Dr. Lamarque said. “While I certainly do not wish for these methods to be....replicated, I cannot deny that in the present circumstances, they have been useful in preventing any injuries to other members of our treatment team, _and_ have upheld the patient’s welfare. After all, a surgeon’s responsibility is not confined solely to the operating room, and Dr. Thenardier has proved that point excellently.”

Eponine gripped the edge of the table, if only to remind herself that indeed she had heard correctly. “So what will happen then?”

“The recommendation of the ethics committee, which met last night, is to allow you to continue practicing to the best of your ability,” Dr. Lamarque said with a smile. “That is of course, only a recommendation. I leave it to my fellow directors.”

“It’s not a good time to get rid of one of our best trauma surgeons, especially one taking care of such a high-profile patient,” another doctor said gruffly as the rest of his colleagues nodded. “Hopefully you will act prudently in future situations, Dr. Thenardier.”

For a moment, Eponine could not find any words. “You mean---“

“You’re staying on and you are expected to report to duty as usual tomorrow,” the chairman of the board said. “Unless you are intent on taking a short leave, as it has come to our attention that you have a family member who is injured?”

“My sister is recovering, so I will definitely be at work tomorrow,” Eponine said. “Thank you, Sirs, Madams,” she added before quickly getting to her feet and heading to the conference room door. She felt as if her legs were shaking, but she willed herself to retain her composure for at least a few moments longer.

 She waited for two minutes outside the director’s office before she heard Mrs. Veuvain show Dr. Lamarque to the door. The elderly physician smiled bemusedly at Eponine as he exited the room. “Is something on your mind, Dr. Thenardier?” he asked as he and Eponine walked towards the elevators.

“Sir, you mentioned something about the temporal order of events in that incident. The CCTV system was cut out, so the evidence there must have been from an eyewitness report,” Eponine began. “Was that from the police?”

Dr. Lamarque shook his head. “The only thing we have from them is the forensics’ report since apparently the officer who took your statement is currently occupied elsewhere.”

‘ _There were only two other people it could have come from then,’_ Eponine realized. “You didn’t call in Dr. Combeferre to explain. Did he give a statement?”

“There was no need for him to,” Dr. Lamarque said with a smile as he stepped into a crowded elevator headed for the ground floor. “My best wishes for your sister’s recovery, Dr. Thenardier. Good luck with your patients as well.”

“Thank you Dr. Lamarque!” Eponine said before the elevator doors shut. She took a moment to collect herself, or at least to try to make sense of the feeling of something swelling in her chest and making her limbs tingle. Instead of pressing a button for an elevator headed upstairs, she now ran for the stairs, delighting in the cadence of her footsteps, in the timbres of colleagues calling to each other along the halls, and most of all, the excited chatter of patients finally preparing to leave the hospital.

When she got to Enjolras’ room she knocked twice before pushing the door open. She found him alone and sitting up with papers strewn all over his bed, but instead of seeing to these he was looking out the window. The sunlight seemed to catch in his hair and lend a healthy glow to his once pallid features, such that if he hadn’t been in a hospital gown, she might have thought that he had simply gotten up from a good night’s rest. There was something stunning about his quiet countenance in this moment, something which compelled Eponine to simply pull up a chair next to his bed. ‘ _What does he see there?’_ she wondered. The view from this room was almost the same as that from outside the director’s office, only that it was just a little closer to the clouds.

“Things are clearing up,” he said after a while. “The protests have moved south towards the Palace, and there’s a ceasefire over the rest of the city.”

“If discussions or negotiations happen any time soon, you’ll need a webcam to join in,” she remarked. 

“I’ve already arranged for that,” he said. “How is Azelma?”

“She’s fine. It will take a while but she’s going to be okay.”

“That’s good. You have to take your break; you’ve been here for three days.”

“I know.” Eponine turned so that she was looking right at Enjolras. “I just came from the administrative meeting. I know what you did.”

Enjolras grimaced for a moment. “I asked Dr. Lamarque to keep it a secret.”

“He didn’t say anything, but did you honestly think I wouldn’t figure it out?” she asked. “I’m thankful for it, but I still want to know why you bothered at all.”

“It was the least I could do especially since Inspector Javert is obviously...unable to give the necessary information at this point in time,” he deadpanned.

“Considering how you left him gobsmacked, that’s only to be expected!”

“I gather also that this isn’t your first run in with him.”

Eponine rolled her eyes at the recollection of the brusque inspector and his manner of interrogation. That was one thing that had not changed over the years. “I was a kid. A real kid then so I wasn’t culpable or anything.” She laughed when she saw Enjolras’ eyebrow shoot up in that expression she already knew marked the beginning of yet another round of inquiry. “It was so long ago, even before I got the idea of wanting to be a surgeon.”

“I thought it was a lifelong ambition.”

“That would be true for Combeferre, or some of those on your side of town, those who grow up seeing Mama and Papa come home from work or who hang around doctors’ offices during summer break.”

“You’re right about Combeferre,” he concurred. “But you—“

“I hated going to the hospital when I was a kid,” she admitted. “I was the kid everyone had to hold down when it was time for shots.”

Enjolras chuckled as he shook his head. “Talk about change.”

“Yeah, you of all people should know that!” Eponine said, laughing as she gesturing to the window. The smoke was clearing up now and she could see more of the square and the rest of the city. She looked to where news vans and reporters were already pulling up outside the hospital. “The public needs you now,” she said a little more sombrely. “You’d better freshen up.”

“What time is it?” Enjolras asked.

“Close to eleven o’clock. Of course this will be for the noontime news,” she replied. She picked up his chart to review his case; if all went well it was possible that she could sign his discharge papers even before the end of the week. “Enjolras, there _is_ one thing I will ask you to do,’ she said.

“Which is?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

Eponine smiled as she set the chart back on its place at the foot of his bed. “Don’t let me see you again...as a patient,” she said.

Enjolras returned her grin before waving to someone who was by the door. “Hello Combeferre.”

Combeferre saluted to them as he walked into the room. “I knew I’d find you here, Eponine,” he said. “Enjolras, there are people waiting for an interview. You up for it?”

“Give me five minutes,” Enjolras said as he tried to comb out his messy hair.

“Alright then,” Combeferre said before looking to Eponine. “How did the meeting go?”

“Better than I’d hoped,” Eponine said. “I’ll see you on my next shift.”

Combeferre breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d like to schedule Azelma for a follow-up CT also, if it’s fine with you and Gavroche.”

“Of course,” Eponine replied. “Have you been in to see her?”

“Yep. You’d better go back there now before she and Courfeyrac hatch some plot to prank us all,” Combeferre said gleefully.

Eponine rolled her eyes. Why did she ever introduce the two to begin with? “Not on my watch!” she declared as she got to her feet and hurried out, lest she also find herself unable to leave thanks to her friends’ contagious laughter.


	10. Epilogue: Say My Name

****

**Epilogue: Say My Name**

“These are the manifests from the detention camps. I hope you are satisfied.”

“Only if they are the complete manifests from _all_ the camps, Gisquet.”

The former chief of police narrowed his eyes at Enjolras as he slammed the reports down on the rickety desk. “You can check them against other tallies. I’ve already exhausted all my resources.”

“We’ll let you know when the commission finds any discrepancies. Thank you for cooperating,” Enjolras said coolly even as he surveyed the sheaf of papers that represented twenty years of increasing impunity and ruthlessness. Some of the documents towards the bottom of the stack were already yellowed and starting to crumble at the edges. ‘ _As if they were hidden away a little too well,’_ he thought, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell clinging to the paper.

Gisquet nodded gruffly as he jammed his battered hat back onto his head. “I highly doubt that you will be able to trace every name on those lists. Some of the camps have closed down years ago. In times like this, a vendetta is a wasted effort.”

“Not for those who are still searching,” Enjolras retorted before Gisquet strode out of the small corner office. ‘ _Ascertaining their fates will not be enough for some of their families and loved ones. Someone out there will be seeking justice,’_ he thought as he looked through the documents. He frowned on seeing that the latest list was only a month old; he and his comrades had come far too close to becoming part of an even more recent list.

He then got up to run the documents through a scanner in order to send them to his colleagues in the newly formed Commission on Human Rights. Now and then he stretched, delighting in his increasing ease of movement. It had been eight days since he’d been given a clean bill of health and discharged from Saint-Michel Hospital, and although he had been warned against straining himself, he was determined to make his still healing body keep up with the pace of his mind and the events he’d almost missed. As he finally reached the bottom of the stack he heard the floorboards in the hallway creaking, followed by a muffled giggle and some sneezing just outside the door. “Courfeyrac, don’t even think about it!” he called.

A moment later the door creaked open to reveal Courfeyrac and Azelma, both of them looking like two children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Are you sure you didn’t have some hearing enhancement surgery or something?” Courfeyrac griped jokingly as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief. “Why can’t we prank you nowadays?”

“Better luck next time,” Enjolras said as he carefully lifted the last paper off the scanner. “You two are off work early,” he remarked, glancing at a wall clock which showed the time to be half past four.

“My classes begin again on Monday while his meeting got cancelled,” Azelma replied as she pointed to herself and then at Courfeyrac.

“Anyway are you coming along to Corinth tomorrow night?” Courfeyrac asked eagerly. “The roof deck of Corinth is going to be packed, so we have to reserve our seats or we’ll be standing all night.”

“This is for Jehan and Grantaire’s slam poetry battle?” Enjolras clarified.

Azelma and Courfeyrac nodded. “Come on, at least give it a try. New lease on life, new habits,” Courfeyrac cajoled.

“With old cases,” Enjolras said as he carefully returned the paper to the stack. ‘ _I probably should encode these records as well,’_ he thought before looking back at his friends. “What time will it be?”

“Eight pm, but the Corinth opens at six,” Courfeyrac replied.

Enjolras glanced at the clock, trying to envision how to divide his day if he was going to show up at the event. Inasmuch as he had a lot to deal with in the aftermath of the uprising, he knew that it would be the height of ingratitude to shun the friends who’d been with him in the middle of the firestorm. “Save a seat for me, please,” he said.

Azelma held up two fingers and Courfeyrac nodded before he sneezed again.  “Okay, try not to turn into a dust bunny before then!” Azelma said as she handed a clean tissue to him. “When was the last time anyone cleaned out this part of the city hall?”

“Heaven knows,” Courfeyrac replied drolly before blowing his nose. “See you tomorrow, Enjolras!”

Enjolras nodded to them before going back to his paperwork, which he now took care to sort out by year and then by location. After securing the documents in a drawer and locking up the office for the night, he headed in the general direction of the parking lot. On his way there he caught sight of Feuilly and Bahorel chatting up some friends recently released from the detention camps. Bossuet was also there, helping an old woman with some paperwork and apparently ignoring the fact that he was in the precarious position of being seated on a windowsill. Gavroche was standing in a corner, sipping from a huge bottle of juice while watching over two small children who’d accompanied Bossuet’s client. Enjolras waved to them as he walked by, earning him some cheers and enthusiastic greetings even from other passers-by.

 As he walked out of the city hall, he noticed a row of people equipped with long handled squeegees and buckets to scrub away all the posters and graffiti that covered the building. In this group of people was a burly man with graying sideburns. Enjolras nodded to this particular gentleman. “Good afternoon Inspector Javert.”

Javert shook his head. “I’ve turned in my badge.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at this bit of news. “For what reasons?”

“I cannot be employed by an agency that would break its own tenets,” Javert said bitterly. “Assassination, setting up the suicide of agents who fail in assassination and illicit searches are not the practices of an honest force.”

‘ _Among many other things,’_ Enjolras thought. “You were already aware of similar atrocities before the rally two weeks ago,” he pointed out sternly.

“I do not want a hand in such misdeeds,” Javert said. His brow was still knitted when he looked at Enjolras more keenly. “Nevertheless I still cannot condone disorder, even if it appears in the guise of change and progress.”

The young man smirked at this slight jibe. “Yet you find yourself engaged in this practice of renovation?”

Javert shrugged diffidently before dipping his squeegee in his bucket. “I heard that Dr. Thenardier was found to be innocent of all the charges,” he said as he slapped the sopping wet squeegee against the wall. “Thankfully in her case the apple does fall far from the tree.”

Enjolras gritted his teeth, realizing now what Javert meant. “Her parents?”

“Swindlers,” Javert said in a matter-of-fact tone as he ripped some shredded posters off the concrete. “Most people in her situation do not come so far.”

“For lack of opportunity,” Enjolras replied.

Javert shook his head. “Sometimes an opportunity is like casting a pearl before swine. It is fortunate that Dr. Thenardier has the moral fibre and good sense to avoid her parents’ path.” He stepped to the side to begin working on another part of the wall. “Now if you will excuse me, I must return to work.”

“Very well then,” Enjolras said before continuing his walk to his car. After he eased himself into the driver’s seat, he checked the time on his new cell phone; it was almost rush hour but if he took care to avoid the worst chokepoints, he would arrive at his destination in less than half an hour. ‘ _Hopefully I won’t be too late then,’_ he thought as he put his key in the ignition.

When he arrived at the Saint-Michel hospital, he made sure to park a little bit away from the entrance to the outpatient department and make an unobtrusive entrance via a side door. He found himself standing in a labyrinth of corridors leading to various doctors’ clinics. ‘ _Which way was it again?’_ he wondered as he searched for the hospital directory.

“Enjolras, the surgery clinics are on the far corridor,” Combeferre’s voice said from nearby. Enjolras turned to see his best friend a few paces away, carrying a huge bag of Chinese takeout. A few paces away, Joly and Musichetta were just getting into an elevator, where Mabeuf and Louison had already squeezed their way in.  Joly also had a bag of food, but Musichetta was carrying a picnic basket.

“Thanks Combeferre,” Enjolras said. “Are you doing overtime tonight?”

“Only till ten in the evening; I promised to help out some of the younger residents with a review,” Combeferre said. “Joly and Musichetta are celebrating their anniversary in the call room.”

“I see,” Enjolras said, unable to imagine a more awkward location for such a celebration. “Is that actually allowed here?”

“Within reason,” Combeferre replied. “By the way Jehan and Grantaire told me to make sure you come around to Corinth tomorrow.”

“I already told Courfeyrac to count me in on the reservation,” Enjolras reassured his best friend. “I’m not about to miss it for the world.”

Combeferre smiled widely and clasped his shoulder. “Glad to see you aren’t being a stranger.”

“Yeah, I need to see you guys in a context that has less likelihood of bloodshed,” Enjolras said with a shrug. He paused, wondering how not to make his next query sound so awkward. “Dr. Thenardier isn’t doing overtime too, is she?”

Combeferre shook his head. “You might still be able to catch her at the clinic, if not you might have to wait till she comes down from the call room.” He clapped Enjolras’ back. “Tell her that I wish you two a good evening.”

“Yeah, I will,” Enjolras said, clasping Combeferre’s shoulder in return before going down the hallway that Combeferre pointed out. He had to carefully manoeuvre past patients in wheelchairs and walkers, until he reached an open door marked: ‘ _Trauma Surgery Clinic’_. When he peered in, he saw Eponine talking to a petite blonde woman in a sundress. The blonde laughed at something that Eponine said before hugging the doctor and then stepping aside to answer a call on her cell phone. 

Suddenly Enjolras turned to see someone also stepping up to the clinic door. “Um...excuse me, but have you seen a girl here, named Cosette?” a tall russet haired doctor asked.

“Maybe she’s inside,” Enjolras said. “By the way, it’s been a _long_ time, Dr. Pontmercy.”

Marius started at the mention of his name before blinking at Enjolras. “Enjolras? What are you doing here?” he said.

“Making a visit,” Enjolras replied. “So you’re into neurology. Congratulations, that’s quite complicated,” he said approvingly, gesturing to the embroidered designation on Marius’ white coat.

“Yeah. I thought of going into medico-legal stuff, just so I could put some of those pre-law credits to use, but that would mean going to law school _after_ medical school,” Marius said sheepishly. “You look very well, after what happened two weeks ago. Eponine is a real ace to get you back on your feet so quickly.”

Enjolras simply smiled at this before peering back inside just in time to see the blonde in the clinic end her call before bounding outside the clinic doors to hug Marius. ‘ _Ah so that’s Cosette,’_ he realized when he saw Marius blush before kissing the woman’s cheek.

Marius cleared his throat as he stepped away from his sweetheart but made sure to take her hand. “Cosette, may I introduce my college friend Auguste Enjolras. Enjolras, meet Cosette,” he said with just the barest hint of a shy stammer.

“I’ve heard of you,” Cosette said as she shook Enjolras’ hand. “From the news of course, but also from Eponine. She mentioned you.”

“You two are friends?” Enjolras asked incredulously.

“Also from college,” Cosette said. She squeezed Marius’ hand. “Come on, we’d better go if we still want to hitch a ride with my mother. She’s swinging by this area in a few minutes.”

“Your mother?” Marius spluttered.

“She wants to meet the guy who’s been driving me crazy,” Cosette said. She nodded to Enjolras. “Nice meeting you. Eponine is waiting inside.”

‘ _Did I hear that right?’_ Enjolras wondered but before he could inquire about this, Cosette and Marius were already quite far off down the hallway. He took a deep breath before knocking once on the door and then stepping in. He saw Eponine carefully folding up her white coat to put away safely in a drawer. She wore her long hair down today, such that the strands framed her tanned face in a most elegant manner. “Are clinic hours over for today, Dr. Thenardier?” he asked as soon as she had shut the drawer.

Eponine looked up quickly and her eyes widened with surprise.  “Enjolras, what are you doing here? Is something wrong? “

“No, not at all,” Enjolras said. “Quite the opposite in fact.”

She paused before she motioned for him to step in. “So you’re not here as a patient?”

“You did say that you didn’t want to see me again in that particular context,” he reminded her.

She nodded even as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You haven’t been my patient for eight days now. But all the same, how are you holding up?”

“Well. Even better than well, I think,” Enjolras replied. He could see that she was somewhat fidgeting, as if there was something she was raring to say but perhaps could not voice out too easily in this room. “Were you on your way out?” he asked.

“Yeah, you can see I was just putting things away,” she said. She turned off the air conditioner in the room and checked the desk one last time before picking up her bag from the desk. “I’m going to the bus stop. That’s near the parking lot; well I assume you did park there?”

“Near the outpatient department, or at least the side door,” Enjolras said.

“Smart idea,” she said as she showed him out of the clinic and then turned off the lights before locking the door. “I heard that there’s a slam poetry night tomorrow. Are you coming?”

He nodded. “Are you?”

“I promised to make time for it,” Eponine replied. “Hopefully I don’t get called off another easy day.”

He smiled sympathetically, even as he knew that he had only this moment to mention what was on his mind. “Eponine, are you doing anything later tonight?”

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. “What did you say?”

Enjolras cringed, already inwardly cursing himself for having the words come out wrong. “I only meant to ask if you had plans. I’m sorry if that was very uncalled for.”

Eponine shook her head. “Not that. You always call me ‘Dr. Thenardier’ or ‘Doc’, but you never actually say my name.” She laughed as she met his eyes. “I was wondering if you ever would.”

Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped closer to her. “Why?”

She bit her lip before looking at him again, but this time with an expression that was both hopeful and uncertain. “After everything, and I mean _everything_ , it doesn’t feel right to refer to each other so formally, or distantly.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “As you said, I’m not your patient anymore, and to be honest, I’d love to get to know who Eponine Thenardier is when she’s not at work.”

A slight blush rose to Eponine’s cheeks at these words. “So how do you want to start?”

Enjolras paused to try to recall his original plan. “There’s a new cafe on the way back downtown. We can have some coffee there, or get a light dinner. Would you like that?”

Eponine smiled widely and nodded as she touched his wrist. “Yes, Enjolras. I’d like that very much.”


End file.
